Expand, Contract
by moreawake
Summary: In the aftermath of Addison's sudden death, Mark is left to grieve and raise their newborn daughter with the help of Addison's brother, friends, and the words she left behind. AU in which Addison left Mark, kept the baby, and went to LA instead of Seattle
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

* * *

**Expand, Contract**

_I can't even tell you what is real  
wave, particle  
longitudes, latitudes  
apples and oranges  
expansions, contractions  
effects of causes_

xx

It begins with a call from a number that he doesn't recognize with a 310 area code. Today was supposed to be the day he became a father, but instead, the mother of his child is a few thousand miles away, and he is alone in an on-call room in the middle of a self-imposed 48-hour shift so that he can work himself to death and then sleep for the day and a half that follows.

Addison left seven months ago. He had been giving her grief about still being married when she finally snapped and confronted him about his cheating. She knew about all of it, he knew there was no good excuse, and after a short but explosive fight with lots of yelling and some tears, she left, taking their unborn child with her. Three weeks later, he learned through the hospital grapevine that she had moved all the way across the country to Los Angeles. And that was it. She never called, she never answered his calls, and after a while, he managed to push aside most of the guilt in an attempt to forget her, their relationship, and their son or daughter.

"Mark Sloan," he answers. He expects to hear the voice of a stranger and a quick, 'Sorry, wrong number.'

But the person on the other end is not a stranger.

"Mark?"

"Archer?"

There is a long pause, giving Mark a few seconds to sit up and quickly consider why Addison's brother is calling him. It must be about the baby, he thinks. Addison must be having the baby, and she wants him there after all. Or maybe she already had the baby, and Archer has been given the responsibility of calling to inform him so that Addison doesn't have to. Regardless, his son or daughter is either here or almost here, and as much as Mark has tried to push that feeling of excitement away for months, it is now rushing back in full force.

Archer, though, does not sound very excited. In fact, he sounds gravely and uncharacteristically serious. "Mark, there's something I need to tell you, and you're going to want to be sitting down for this, okay?"

Confusion quickly replaces excitement, and his heart begins to beat faster. Something isn't right.

"What happened?"

"You sitting down yet?"

"Archer, what is it?" he asks harshly. Mark is irritated by the hesitance that is causing him grow more concerned by the millisecond, but as soon as he hears Archer breathing strangely and then getting choked up, the frustration disappears. At that moment, he realizes something is _very_ wrong. He waits a little longer and then asks again, this time more gently. "Arch, what happened? What's going on?"

"Addison…"

He listens to Archer fighting back tears, and before Archer can manage to pull himself together enough to finish the sentence, Mark already knows what he is going to say next:

"She died, Mark. Addison died this morning."

Immediately, he feels as if he has been kicked in the stomach and had the floor pulled out from under him. His whole body goes cold and numb, his mouth goes dry, and his throat closes up. He can't breathe. There is shock and disbelief and so much overwhelming raw emotion running through him that he has to lie back down.

"Sh-she went into labor early yesterday morning, and after a while, it just stopped progressing, so they took her in for a C-section," Archer explains, his voice trembling. "They got the baby out, and they closed her up, and everything was fine. God, she was talking and laughing and happy and everything, but this morning, they had her get out of bed for the first time since the surgery, and she just… she collapsed. It was a pulmonary embolism, over in a second. She didn't have a chance."

"Oh god." This is happening. This is really happening. _How_ is this happening? "Oh my god."

"So you have some decisions to make… f-for the baby," Archer elaborates.

The baby.

"Oh god," he repeats. His brain isn't working. His head is spinning, _everything_ is spinning, and his whole body is nearly paralyzed with shock over the fact that Addison—beautiful, smart, funny, perfect _Addison_—is gone. He can't even begin to think about the baby right now.

"It's a girl," Archer continues. "You have a daughter. Ten fingers, ten toes, seven pounds, fourteen ounces. She's beautiful." Although his tone conveys absolute devastation, a hint of happiness is also present, as well as pride; it's clear that he is so proud of his sister for bringing this little girl into the world. "Her name is Aurora, and she needs you."

Mark swallows hard, willing himself not to break and trying to process all that is suddenly being thrown at him. Addison is gone, and now there is a baby. Her daughter. A little girl whom he will have to raise alone. Except he can't. He just can't. Not without Addison. Hell, even _with_ Addison he probably still couldn't do it. "I don't know if I can."

"You have to. You are her father, and without Addison, you are her legal guardian. She's yours."

"But I don't have anything she needs. I don't even know _what_ she needs. I-I've never even changed a diaper." Distraught over Addison and panicked over the idea of being a single father, his normally gruff, deep voice has taken on the tone of a scared child. "How can I possibly take care of her? How? Archer, I can't. You know me. You know what kind of person I am. I can't. I want to, but I can't."

"At least fly out here and meet her before you decide on anything."

xx

The whole transcontinental flight is a blur. He remembers throwing clothes into a suitcase and taking more Xanax than he probably should have, and the next thing he knows, he's in the nursery of a hospital he has never seen, sitting in a hard plastic chair in the corner of the room as Archer Montgomery carries a tiny pink-blanketed bundle towards him.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to hold her," Mark admits softly as Archer comes to a stop in front of him. The baby looks so small and fragile, and he is embarrassed by the fact that he doesn't know how to hold his own child.

"Until yesterday, I didn't know either," Archer answers, offering a sympathetic half-smile. "Kids are not my thing. The only baby I've ever I held was Addie, and that was 38 years ago when I was two and a half. Rory is a good baby, though. She isn't nearly as loud as some of these other kids in here, and once you pick her up, she calms pretty quickly. Just be sure you support her head and neck, and she'll be okay."

Mark is shaking slightly as Archer eases the tiny baby into his arms, and the moment she is settled, the floodgates break. He has been able to keep it (mostly) together so far, but now that he is looking at his daughter— at _Addison's_ daughter—he can't hold back. He is not one to cry. He never _ever_ cries, but this is their child that he is meeting for the first time, and he hates himself for being here when Addison is not. This little girl will never know her mother, and her mother will never know her. It isn't right. This is not the way things are supposed to be.

Aurora Addison Montgomery is beautiful. Her wispy hair is red like her mother's, her soft skin is a healthy pink, and as soon as Mark hears the little mewling sounds she is making and glimpses her little blue eyes blinking sleepily up at him, his decision is made. He can't let her go. He has no idea how to be a father or a caregiver to an infant, but he is going to do it anyway. He will figure it out because allowing Archer or Naomi or Savvy to take this little girl home is no longer an option. This is his and Addison's child, and already, he knows he would do anything for her in a heartbeat.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out as the baby grasps hold of his index finger with her perfect little fist. When she opens her mouth to yawn, a couple more tears spill down his cheeks, and he shakes his head. "If it weren't for me, Addison would still be here. This is my fault. This is _all_ my fault. If only I had—"

"It's not anyone's fault," Archer insists as he pulls a chair up next to him and sits down. He looks like hell, but his voice is calm. "Addie wanted to have a baby, and she did. She loved Aurora more than anything, and she was happier than I had ever seen her. No one saw this coming. No one is to blame."

It was just some stupid one-in-a-few-thousand fluke. Mark knows it was, but the idea of there being no one to blame almost makes him sick. There is no one to be angry at, nothing to direct anger towards except life itself.

She was happy. She had just given birth to a beautiful, perfect little girl. She was a good person, a phenomenal doctor. She _deserves_ to be here.

"I don't know how I'm going to do this," Mark confesses quietly, watching Aurora's eyelids drift closed. "Addison didn't even want me near her to begin with."

"I think this is what she would want now, though. She would want her daughter to grow up with her father. Aurora's life without a mother is going to be hard enough, but being raised by her father will at least give her something closer to normalcy," Archer reasons, initially looking down at his niece but then looking back up at Mark. "Look, if you can't do it, I will be more than happy to take her. I could tell her everything she ever wanted to know about Addie, but I think that, growing up, she would rather have a dad than an uncle."

Mark turns his eyes back to Aurora, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps peacefully, unaware of what is going on and how drastically her life has already changed. She is so small and helpless. She _needs _him, and as heartbroken, devastated, and terrified as he is, he can't just let her go. She is his.

"I'm going to need a lot of help."

* * *

**A/N:** I know. It's super angsty, and I killed off our favorite character, but stick with me here. I wasn't sure whether to post this here or in the Grey's section, but even though the story is based around Mark, all supporting characters will be from Private Practice. Thanks for reading. :) It's been a while since I've written anything.


	2. Chapter 2

_xx_

He wakes to tiny, shrill cries emanating from a frilly white bassinet just a few feet away in the dark. It doesn't feel like he fell asleep that long ago, and a glance over at the alarm clock tells him that, yes, it has only been about 45 minutes since he got his daughter back to sleep for the first time since bringing her home to Addison's. In a perfect world, he would be able to roll over to the person sleeping next to him and mumble, "Your turn," but instead, he is sleeping in bed alone, and he is the only person responsible for making those cries stop.

"I'm coming," Mark mumbles, rolling out of the bed in one of Addison's guest rooms and walking with slumped posture towards the source of the noise: Aurora is lying on her back in the bassinet wearing a pink cotton sleeper, kicking her legs, and clenching her little fists near her face as she screams.

"Okay. Round two. Here we go," he encourages himself out loud. Taking a deep breath, he carefully scoops up the red-faced infant and holds her against him, tucking her head under his chin and allowing her to curl up against his chest as she continues to wail. When she woke up earlier, her problem was obvious; she needed a diaper change. This time around, though, he isn't sure what it is.

"Hey, shhh… come on. You're okay. Everything is okay," he murmurs awkwardly, still unsure of how he is supposed to talk to a baby and fully knowing that things really are not okay. "Shhh… please. I want to be able to do this without help."

He has plenty of help nearby—Archer, Sam, Naomi, and Maya are all staying over for a week or so—but he feels like he needs to be able to prove to himself early on that he can do this alone. So he begins to pace back and forth across the darkened room, rubbing her back and talking to her softly, just as he had for Addison whenever she was upset about something. He is really trying, but a few minutes pass, and Aurora still isn't responding to any of it. In fact, his attempts at soothing only seem to be upsetting her more.

"Need some help?" A voice from behind him asks in an elevated whisper. Turning around, he sees a tired-looking Naomi leaning against the doorframe in her pajamas, holding one of Aurora's blankets, and immediately, he feels a mixture of guilt and embarrassment. Relying on others is something Mark has never been comfortable with, and even though he knows that Naomi is more than happy to assist for the second time tonight, it still doesn't feel right.

"I'm sorry," he tells her as she approaches. He wishes he that didn't have to be taught how to care for his own child. "I thought I could handle it myself this time, but I can't get her to stop."

"Don't worry about it. I wasn't sleeping anyway. Here," she offers, reaching out to take the baby. Naomi settles Aurora in her arms with ease, resting the little girl's head against her shoulder and covering her tiny body with a soft yellow blanket. Immediately, she seems to know what the crying is all about: "When was the last time she ate?"

His heart sinks. No wonder she's so upset. He should have been able to figure that one out himself. Of _course_ she has to eat—it's been about three and a half hours.

"Oh, crap." The palm of his right hand goes straight to his forehead, and his fingers reach up to pull at his hair. "God, she's probably starving. I'm an idiot."

"Hey, it's okay. She'll never let you forget to feed her for long, so I don't think you have to worry about starving her," she assures him over Aurora's cries. "Go ahead and warm up a bottle. I'll see if I can calm her down a little."

He nods and turns to walk out of the bedroom, feeling defeated. Failure number one. He should have known.

As he navigates his way to the kitchen, bare feet sticking to the wood floor with each step, he can't help but take notice of his moonlit surroundings. It is so odd to be in this house. Everything inside is so completely Addison—the colors, the furniture, the decorative wall hangings. The house even smells like her. It's nothing like the brownstone in New York, but it is still very much like her.

And it's kind of painful.

But he keeps moving, knowing that if he stops to take everything in, his emotions will get the best of him.

Just before entering the kitchen, though, he pauses upon noticing that the outside lights are on in the backyard. Through the French doors, he can see Archer laying motionless on one of the reclining deck chairs with his arms crossed, staring out at seemingly nothing, just as he has been since the sun set hours ago. If Mark didn't have a crying baby waiting for him, he would consider going outside to grab his own chair, but instead, he continues into the kitchen where he finds that even the contents of the refrigerator screams 'Addison.'

There are several pre-filled bottles on the bottom shelf for Aurora, but on the middle shelf, there is a large slice of chocolate cake covered in plastic wrap, a half-finished cheesecake, and a never-opened carrot cake. She always loved any kind of cake, and that love seems to have gone into overdrive during her pregnancy. He lets out a small laugh at the thought of how… _cute_… she would have looked, imagining her laughing with Naomi in the living room with her feet up on her coffee table and a plate of cheesecake balanced on her rounded stomach. He wishes he could have been here to see that, to have lived with her through all of it, and the more he imagines everything, the more the hurt builds until he remembers that his daughter needs him. Shaking his head to stop the thoughts, he grabs a bottle off the bottom shelf and quickly shuts the door.

While he waits for the bottle warmer to do its job, he collapses into one of the kitchen chairs and buries his face into his crossed arms on the table in order to take a quick five-minute nap; on top of feeling overwhelmed and emotionally gutted, he is also suffering from some serious jet lag. It's 5 am in New York, so he feels like he has been awake all night. He shuts his eyes and inhales deeply through his nose, focusing his thoughts on breathing. _In, out. Expand, contract. Everything will be okay_.

All too soon, the timer beeps, and reluctantly, he pulls himself out of the chair, grabs the bottle, and begins the walk back to the guest room, skylights illuminating his path. He tries not to pay attention to his surroundings at all this time, but as he gets closer to his destination, he can't help but notice Addison's room at the end of the hallway. The closed white double doors reflect the outside light seeping in and have an almost hypnotizing glow in the darkness. He almost stops just to stare, but Aurora's whimpers urge him to continue.

"I'm back," he announces, pushing open the guest room door to find Naomi sitting on the bed, slowly rocking back and forth with Aurora who is now swaddled comfortably in her yellow blanket.

"Hey," Naomi greets him as she glances up from the fussy baby. "She's still a little upset, but some food will change that."

He moves to sit down next to her, and she carefully transfers the little girl into his arms. The change in position initially upsets her, but as soon as Mark puts the bottle to her lips, Aurora latches on immediately. Her cries stop, and the room is suddenly silent as she begins to eat frantically, barely stopping to breathe. She was so obviously hungry, and he feels incredibly sorry for making her wait so long between meals.

"Thank you," he says, looking over at Naomi. He says it as sincerely as possible because he knows she is hurting, too, and he truly appreciates that she is so willing to help despite all that she must be feeling. "I'm sorry that I couldn't figure this out on my own."

"You don't have to apologize, Mark. It's your first night. Caring for a baby is something that takes a little practice, and we are all happy to help." She offers him a small smile. "Do you want me to sit here with you while she eats?"

"You can go ahead and sleep. I think I'm going to try it solo this time," he decides. "Thank you, though. Really. She would still be screaming and I would still be clueless if you hadn't been here."

"Not a problem. If you need _anything_, just walk across the hall. I'll leave the door open a little bit," she whispers as she stands up to leave.

"Okay."

"Sweet dreams, baby girl," she coos, lightly brushing her fingers across Aurora's rosy cheek before looking back to Mark. "I'll come see you guys again the next time I hear her wake up, okay?"

He nods. He wants to say that he can handle her himself, but he knows that probably isn't true. Not yet, at least. "Thank you."

Naomi leaves, closing the door part way behind her. Now it's just the two of them, father and daughter.

"I'm really sorry about this, kid," Mark whispers apologetically as he carefully shifts so that he can sit up against the, thankfully, padded headboard of the bed. "I'm still learning here, but I promise I won't make that mistake again."

Aurora responds with a small noise, stopping for a moment to catch her breath and then going straight back to eating. He looks down at her, in awe of how small she looks when cradled in his arms. It's amazing. She wasn't even here a few days ago, and now, here she is—snuggled against him, eating, breathing, living, _perfect_. It's surreal.

But it is also agonizingly bittersweet.

A few days ago, he was trying to ignore Addison's approaching due date, and right now, he is 3000 miles away, living in her Spanish-style Santa Monica home, figuring out how to care for their newborn daughter, and dealing with the aftermath of her death. A few days ago, Addison was alive and blissfully happy, a woman so looking forward to motherhood, and now… she isn't anything.

Just as he thinks he can't take this reality for another second, Aurora gurgles, and his attention is back on her. While he zoned out, he must have shifted her oddly because she now has a trail of formula and baby drool dribbling out of her mouth and down her chin. Or maybe she just spit up. He doesn't know, but he repositions her a little anyway, and she calmly and contently goes back to eating. Her eyes peek over the top of her bottle, and she gazes up at him, blinking sleepily as she had the very first time he held her. He knows that he probably looks like a fuzzy blob to her at this point in her life, but there is something comforting about the way her little eyes look at him. It's the same comfort he feels when she wraps her little hand around one of his fingers, and despite the fact that he doesn't always know what she needs yet, he likes to think it means she likes him. Outside of the OR, people typically do not have a lot of faith in him, and really, that is mostly his fault, but Aurora seems to have an innate trust in him. He just hopes he doesn't somehow ruin it. He wants to be different, someone she can look up to, because she has already lost so much. He wants to keep her safe. He wants to be able to give her the life Addison would have wanted to give her. He just isn't sure how to do it.

"Listen, I know we don't know each other very well yet, but you're still my daughter, and I… I love you," he murmurs quietly, knowing that the last (and only other) person he said those three words to was Addison. This is the first time he has been alone with his little girl long enough to actually _talk_ to her, and it feels both strange and completely natural at the same time. "I honestly don't know how we are going to do this without your mom, but we don't really have a choice, so if you could please be a good kid and try to fight off all of your Sloan genes and all of the Montgomery genes that can make Archer such a pain in the ass, I would really appreciate it. I need all the help I can get," he tells her. "I'm glad you're here, though. I know that the mood around here sucks, and everyone is so caught up in other stuff right now when the attention should all be on you, but we really _are_ happy to have you. Really. And I hope you know that."

She falls asleep minutes after finishing her bottle, but instead of immediately placing her back in the bassinet, he feels compelled to hold her for a little longer, studying her features and watching her breathe. What he feels for her already is indescribable, and he wants to make sure she knows that he is here and that she is safe, wanted, and loved. His own parents never gave him that, so if he can somehow convey that to her, he knows it's at least a decent start.

_xx_


	3. Chapter 3

xx

When he drags himself into Addison's kitchen with his fussy daughter several mornings later, Mark finds that Sam is already awake and making coffee. It's not quite 7:30, and he has had a collective total of maybe three hours of restless sleep.

"Want some caffeine?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"I guess not."

Aurora is turning out to be significantly more exhausting than he had anticipated. Sam and Naomi try to reassure him by insisting it will get easier, but he can't help but think that maybe it got easier for them because they had each other along the way.

That's not to say he doesn't appreciate all of their help—he is more than grateful—but he also knows that within a week or so, he will be on his own with a baby. They will be next door and available if he needs anything, but he doesn't want them to feel like he is taking advantage. It doesn't feel right to keep asking and taking when his friendship with them isn't what it used to be. They had been good friends in medical school, but it has been over a decade since they have lived in such close proximity, and all three of them have turned into very different people. While he, Derek, and Addison chose to stay in New York for residency, the Bennetts chose a program all the way across the country and had a baby within the year. After that, there were phone calls and occasional visits, but those had grown considerably less frequent over the years. Which was understandable, he thought. After all, what did a conventional married couple with a kid have to talk about with a guy like him? They had nothing in common anymore except a mutual friend (Addison) and their shared past.

And that is why it feels so strange to have them supporting him through this: he knows Sam and Naomi, but at the same time, he doesn't. Not anymore, at least. And yet, they are still here, sacrificing sleep and treating him as the friend he once was, despite their own grief and despite what they must know about him through Addison.

"How was she last night?" Sam asks as he sets down two cups of coffee on the kitchen table and sits.

Mark is warming a bottle as he leans against the counter trying unsuccessfully to calm the baby, who is currently crying directly into his ear.

"The same as she has been. We were up at midnight, two-thirty, and five," he considered saying _she_ or _I,_ but when _we_ comes out, it surprises him a little. In a good way. They are in this together. Still, though, he is really wondering when he will be able to sleep for more than 90 minutes at a time. "God, I don't know how you and Naomi did this when you were interns. Did you guys ever sleep?"

"Occasionally," Sam laughs into his coffee cup just before taking a sip. When he puts it down, he notices that Mark appears mildly terrified rather than amused, so he tries to backpedal a little. "Hey, just sleep when she sleeps for now, and once she starts sleeping through the night, it will get easier. Maya was sleeping through the night by about ten weeks, and she was a _lot_ more fun after that."

He nods. Naomi told him the exact same thing, but it isn't any more encouraging the second time around. Ten weeks of this seems incredibly daunting.

"It would be a hell of a lot easier if she could tell me what's wrong instead of just screaming until I eventually figure it out." He pauses, contemplating whether or not to continue with his thought or to just stop there. After a few moments, he decides to keep going. "Addison wouldn't have had to figure anything out. She would have just known." As soon as he says it, he knows it's irrational, but at the same time, there is no doubt in his mind that Addison would be a lot better at this than he is.

"You'll know after a little while, too," Sam replies, ignoring the mention of Addison since no one is really sure how to handle talking about her just yet. "You'll learn which cries mean she's hungry or tired or wet, but there will still be some times where she's just going to cry. It won't mean that you're doing a bad job, and it's going to break your heart, but sometimes, you're just going to have to be patient and hold her until she stops."

There have been a few instances of that already, and he hates them. He hates that she is so miserable during those moments, and somewhat selfishly, he also hates that she is so unbelievably loud. Regardless of what Sam says, the crying makes him feel inadequate. When Aurora is content, everything seems manageable, but when she is inconsolable, he questions whether or not he can really do this, whether he jumped into everything too quickly. Right now, it's still new. He is still learning things and getting to know his daughter, which can actually be kind of exciting, but he wonders if life will become more of a frustration once the novelty wears off, once he is really settled into this new life where he comes second. Right now, he feels an attachment to her that he has never felt with anyone else before, but having never made a long-standing commitment to anything other than surgery, he questions if it will last. He loves her, but selflessness and commitment have never been a part of who he is.

"Do you think it will wear off?" He asks quietly once he is seated across from Sam. Ashamed to make eye contact while asking such a question, he stars down at the little girl in his arms who is eating with her eyes closed. She amazes him just by breathing, but he still wonders. "Will I wake up one day and not love her as much as I think I do right now?"

At first, Sam says nothing, and the silence makes Mark really wish he hadn't said that out loud.

"When you first found out Addie was pregnant, you bought a onesie and a calendar to mark her due date," he begins tentatively, clearly still trying to figure out exactly what to say. "She told us that she felt depressed and conflicted, while you were so excited and happy that it bothered her. You are sarcastic and bitter and cynical, but you were happy about that baby," he says, looking over at his friend who has finally looked up. "You've loved her in the best way you knew how since before she was born, and now you're here for her and doing everything you can to make sure she is well taken care of. You care for her, and you want the best for her. It's not going to wear off, and you may not believe that now because it's hard to really wrap your mind around, but the first time she smiles at you or calls you 'Dada,' you'll see."

It's the most reassuring thing Sam has said to him in the past several days, and while there is still doubt and worry, he feels better for having expressed himself in first place. The mood, though, is a little too serious for his liking.

"Well, aren't you insightful for 7:45 in morning?" he jokes.

Sam laughs and shakes his head, "I try."

xx

"Poor thing. She has Addison's hair," Elizabeth Forbes remarks with a sigh, running a finger over Aurora's rosy cheek. Friends and family are all gathered at Addison's house after saying their final goodbyes, and this is the first time Bizzy has had a good look at her tiny granddaughter. Of course, the first thing she says just _has_ to be critical, which irritates Mark. She could have said something along the lines of, '_Poor thing, she's lost her mother_,' but instead she had to comment on how unfortunate it is that Aurora has something in common with Addison, a something which Mark happens to like very much. He tightens his hold on his daughter and waits for Addison's mother to finish her assessment. "She is a precious little thing, though. Her eyes are lovely, and she actually looks a lot like Archie." He figures that a resemblance to Archer is about the highest compliment this woman is capable of giving, and when she holds out her arms, he tries not to cringe outwardly, "May I?"

"Oh, sure," Mark nods before somewhat hesitantly passing his daughter over to her grandmother. He gives the baby's tiny hand a quick squeeze as he does so—an advance apology for allowing Bizzy to hold her.

"Why, hello, Miss Aurora. I'm your Grandmother Bizzy. Yes, hello. You are a very pretty little girl. Yes, you are," she coos at the baby in a tone that makes Mark desperately want to roll his eyes. He watches as she smoothes down Aurora's hair before turning to look at him again. "You are planning on finding a nanny, aren't you?"

This catches him off guard.

"Um, I actually hadn't thought about it," he answers honestly, a slight waver in his voice. It had never occurred to him to hire a nanny. He knows how much Addison resented her mother for not actually _being_ a mother, and he knows that being dumped on the Shepherds when he was a child didn't do much for his feelings of self-worth. Aurora needs a parent, not a stranger, to take care of her.

"Oh, you'll need one. Believe me, I can't imagine having raised Archie and Addison without one, and _I'm_ a woman," she says condescendingly. "It's simply too much to handle on your own, especially if she is anything like Addison. My goodness, she was the fussiest, most temperamental child. Archie was an angel, but Addison was difficult from day one. I loved her, of course, but she was just _so_ needy. Always having to be held and coddled, always demanding attention. You'll almost certainly need someone else to deal with that."

Now he's biting his tongue and feeling very defensive—not only because he hates when people tell him what to do, but also because she is so completely tactless: continuing to talk negatively about Addison and implying that his daughter will be a nuisance.

"Addison didn't want her to be raised by a nanny. As far as I know, she was planning on doing everything herself, and—"

"Well she didn't always make the best decisions, did she?" He can't believe she just said that. "So naïve. I doubt she would have lasted a week on her own with an infant."

And that pretty much does it.

"Look, Addison would have been a great mother, and I think I owe it to her and to Aurora to man-up and do this my own. The nanny thing isn't going to happen."

Bizzy is rendered momentarily speechless, and before she can continue her argument, Archer steps in, and Mark thinks that he has never been more thankful for an interruption.

"So what do you think of the baby, Bizzy?" Archer asks in the typical golden-child tone that he uses around his mother. "She looks like a Forbes Montgomery, don't you think?"

"I think she's beautiful, Archie dear, but I think you might need to talk some sense into her father. Did you know that Mark thinks he is going to raise her without a nanny?"

He looks over to Archer, eyes pleading for some back-up, which, thankfully, he gets.

"Yes, actually, and I think that's perfectly acceptable, seeing as he is very capable and has me ten minutes away and Naomi and Sam next door. He will have all the help he needs, should he need it."

Bizzy makes another comment expressing her disapproval, and then she and Archer begin to politely argue with each other. Mark has stopped listening and is staring at the wood floor in Addison's living room, anxiously trying to figure out a way to ask for his daughter back so that they can escape to a place that is less tense and has people who are more sane. Usually, he isn't a hesitant person, but during this past week, he has become one.

"Hey, can I steal Mark for a second?" Naomi's voice breaks in. _Thank my non-existent God_, he thinks to himself, exhaling in relief. She puts a hand on his shoulder and smiles sweetly at Bizzy as she looks for permission. "There are some people I'd like him to meet."

"Oh, I…" He trails off, unsure as he looks back and forth between the three adults and his daughter.

"We've got her, don't worry," Archer assures him. "Go ahead."

He feels guilty for leaving Aurora with such unpleasantness, but he is still extremely thankful for the chance to get away for a few minutes.

"You looked like you wanted to run," Naomi observes.

"God, you have no idea. I haven't seen that woman in years, and I had somehow forgotten what a pain in the ass she is."

She leads him through the small crowd of people (there are too damn many) and over to a corner where Sam is standing with two other men and a woman. He hates meeting new people, especially today, but he knows that these particular people played a big part in Addison's life in California.

They exchange handshakes and small talk, but his brain is in such a daze that when he reflects on everything later, he can only recall bits and pieces. There was a psychiatrist, a guy who practices alternative 'medicine,' and a pediatrician, and, among other things, they all expressed different versions of, "If there is anything at all that I can do, I would be more than happy to help." He remembers that they sounded sincere, and not surprisingly, they all seemed to have been very fond of Addison.

"_We loved Addison. She was so much fun. A little bit of a crazy, but that made her fit right in_," the curly-haired psychiatrist had said. Violet. Like the color. That's the only reason he remembers.

"_She was an incredibly beautiful woman. I kind of had a thing for her before I found out she was pregnant. After that, she just became a really good friend."_ He doesn't remember the quack's name.

Or the pediatrician's.

"_She was so funny. She was a little intimidating to me when she first started here, but once she opened up, it was so easy to talk to her, and she had a great sense of humor."_

They also seemed to have grown attached to Aurora.

It's a lot to take in, but it's a relief to know that Addison had been surrounded by good people who appreciated who she was and made her feel welcome in California. He isn't sure yet how he will fit in with them, but he is glad to know that Addison and their daughter were loved and taken care of when he wasn't there.

xx

"Hey, I'm trying to help you out here. You puked all over your pajamas, so you need some different ones." He feels ridiculous saying that, but Naomi has instructed him to always talk his daughter through everything, and that is the most pleasant way he can think of to say, 'Kid, you're gross.' After her evening bottle, Aurora managed to spit up—what Mark thinks was probably the entire contents of her stomach—all over the front of her fuzzy pink pajamas and his arm, and by the time he got the little girl to her room for a change of clothes, she was also in need of a new diaper. Lovely.

With the help of a trick that he learned from Sam, he is able to easily get the clean sleeper over her head, but her arms are less cooperative. If he grasps hold of her forearm, she resists just enough that he is afraid of hurting her. If he tries to pull the fabric over to slip her arm through a sleeve, it pulls too much at the neckline. After a half a dozen attempts, he can see that she is getting upset—not because he is hurting her, he has learned, but because she gets cold from wearing only socks and a diaper.

"I know you don't like this, but you're going to freeze even more if you don't work with me here." The sound of his voice distracts her enough that he is able to finally get an arm into a sleeve. The second one goes through more easily, and then all he has left are the snaps. "Thank you for cooperating," he tells her as he smoothes the material over her stomach, smiling down at her because not only is she cute, he is also proud of himself for having been able to change her diaper and clothes without too much of a fuss. "That wasn't so bad, huh?"

Carefully, he lifts her up and hugs her against him, letting his cheek brush against the softness of the hair on her head and breathing in. It's such a simple action, but it makes him melt every time in a way he never thought possible.

"Let's just sit in here for a little while, until you fall asleep, okay?" He says as he walks them over to the comfortable lavender loveseat near the door. She has a rocking chair that might be better suited for getting her to sleep, but something just feels weird about being a guy sitting in a white rocking chair with a bright pink cushion. Besides that, he really just wants to put his feet up, which he does as soon as he settles himself with his back against the armrest.

It's been a long day. For everyone else, it has been painfully emotional and filled with tears, but for him, it hasn't really sunk in that Addison is gone. He hasn't cried at all since that day in the hospital, and for the most part, his brain has set up some sort of buffer that keeps him from really thinking about her. He has been living without her for such a long time that not having her around feels almost normal, with the exception of the new little person in his life and change of scenery. In the back of his mind, he knows that she isn't just living somewhere else, but he hasn't even begun to really process it.

Aurora yawns, pressing her forehead into his shoulder and gripping the neckline of his t-shirt. He rubs her back softly, knowing that she must be completely exhausted after a stressful day of being passed around to friends and relatives.

It's peacefully quiet for a while until he hears footsteps and Archer's raised voice in the hallway.

"Oh, 'Eleven years,' my ass," he seethes. "You have a lot of fucking nerve."

It must be Derek.

"You don't get to care now. If this hadn't happened—no, Derek. No one told you because she wouldn't have wanted you there. … Oh, shut up. It's the truth."

Surprisingly, Mark hasn't really thought much about his former best friend during any of this, but now he thinks that maybe he should have been allowed to say goodbye to her. After all, there had been a time when they were very happy together, but, as Addison's brother, Archer got the final say.

As her uncle's voice gets closer and louder, Aurora tenses, and Mark does his best to cover her ears and kick the door closed all the way as quietly as possible.

But they can still hear him.

"If this hadn't happened, you wouldn't be sorry. You would be going about your life without giving her a second thought, just like you have been doing for the last four years. You only care now because she's gone, and you _finally_ feel guilty. So if you called to get some peace of mind and to ease your conscience, it's not happening. … Yeah, I know she messed up, too. I know that, but you checked out way before she ever did anything. … Bullshit, Derek. God, you were _never_ good enough for her, and you know what? I'm done with this conversation."

The hallway is silent again, and Mark exhales in relief, closing his eyes and resting his head back.

Until the door opens and Archer enters and asks, "Can I hold her?" even though he is visibly still angry.

Mark swings his feet back to the floor and sits up straight, feeling especially protective of his daughter, and a little upset at Archer for being… Archer. "I just heard you ranting in the hallway. Can you calm down first?"

"I _am_ calm, you a—" he stops himself before he says anything offensive, and his face softens when he takes his eyes off Mark and looks down at the baby. His tone promptly changes. "Sorry. Just … can I please hold her for a little while? I'll take care of her, and you could sleep, maybe?"

Archer is almost pleading, and Mark knows that even though Archer is who he is, he needs this. He also knows that he could sure as hell use a nap.

"Okay."

"I'll be careful with her," he promises, reaching out for her.

"I know."

She helps. He understands that. She is so new and soft and warm, and it helps to be able to hold onto someone for hours at a time without seeming too clingy. She is also a part of Addison, and they need her as much as she needs all of them.

xx

**A/N:** Thanks for the feedback on the last two chapters. Sorry it's taken so long to get this one up. Work and studying for the GRE have been taking up way too much time. Hope some of you are still with me :) Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Not sure if anyone remembers this since it's been almost three months since I last updated, but hopefully some of you are still with me.

* * *

xx

With a few extra sets of hands around the house, it doesn't surprise him when he wakes up one morning to find an empty bassinet. He knows that Naomi sometimes just can't help herself and simply has to hold Aurora, even if the little girl is asleep, so he doesn't worry over her whereabouts. Instead, he is thankful for the extra sleep that he can now take advantage of. It's been yet another long night, and he's just so incredibly tired as he collapses back into bed, face pressed into the pillow and sprawled out on top of the covers in his sweatpants and t-shirt. Laying there, he hopes for another thirty minutes of rest, maybe an hour if he is really lucky, but the obnoxiously bright sun shining in through the skylight and from behind the blinds makes sleep impossible. Groaning, he gives up and pulls himself off the bed, deciding to see what his daughter is up to.

The first thing he notices while walking downstairs is that it is awfully quiet. Usually, he can hear Naomi and Maya cooing at the baby if she is awake or bare feet pacing the wood floor in the kitchen and the low volume of the television if she is not.

They aren't in the living room. They aren't in the kitchen. They aren't in any of the rooms downstairs.

"Naomi?" He calls. "Sam?"

There is no one out on the back patio either.

"Is anyone here?"

He almost to the top of the stairs again when Naomi opens the door to what has become her and Sam's room.

"Is everything okay?" She asks through a yawn.

"Oh. Yeah. I just couldn't find you guys. Is she asleep? I can take her now."

"What?"

"The baby."

"I don't have the baby."

"You don't have her? Sam doesn't have her?"

"Sam took Maya to school, and no, I don't have her. I just woke up."

"Well, I put her back to bed at about 4:15, but I just woke up, and she's not in her bassinet. Wait… is this a joke?" He asks, standing on tip-toe to look over Naomi's shoulder for any sign of his daughter. "Where is she?"

"I'm not kidding. I don't have her," she answers before opening the door all the way to prove herself. "Maybe Archer and Bizzy came by this morning so that they could spend time with her."

He shakes his head. Upstairs is silent, downstairs is silent, and if Archer or Bizzy were over, he would surely be able to hear them. "I looked everywhere. There's no one in the whole house except us." He's panicking now. He may not know a lot about children, but he knows for a fact that an 11 day-old baby cannot just disappear on her own. Someone had to move her, but Naomi doesn't have her, Sam doesn't have her, Archer is back to living at his house, and somehow, Aurora is still gone. As his mind races, he begins to assume the worst. "Naomi, I don't know where she is. Something happened."

Ever the cool, calm, and collected one, Naomi takes a deep breath as she places a reassuring hand on her friend's shoulder. "Look, let's go downstairs and look to see if anything seems out of the ordinary, and then we can take it from there, alright? We can call Archer, too, just in case he took her somewhere. I mean, he has a key to the house."

"Where would he take a week-and-a-half-old baby?" He asks almost angrily while hurriedly leading the way down the steps. "And why wouldn't he ask me first?"

"Are you sure that you—" Naomi stops mid-sentence and mid-step as the front door creaks open to reveal Archer carrying a diaper bag and a carseat containing the missing baby. She takes her hand off the railing and places it over heart with a sigh of relief, "Oh, thank God."

Of all the stupid, selfish, boundary-crossing things Archer has done, this is beyond infuriating. Here he was thinking he might never see his daughter again, when all along _Archer_ had her. He is relieved to see that Aurora is safe, but he now has the overwhelming urge to strangle her uncle. As Archer sets her carseat on the rug just inside the door, Mark quickly paces across the room to confront him. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Hey, keep it down. She's sleeping," Archer warns, his voice giving no indication of guilt or remorse. "I had to drop Bizzy off at the airport for an early flight."

His casual tone only incenses Mark more since, apparently, Archer sees nothing wrong with coming into someone else's house and stealing a baby. "And you thought it was okay to kidnap my child and take her with you? Are you insane?"

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, please. Come on. I didn't kidnap her, and I brought her back in one piece. I just thought Bizzy should be able to—"

"No. She's my daughter. You can't just pick her up and take her somewhere without asking. God, Archer, I woke up, and she wasn't in her bed, and Naomi and Sam didn't have her, and you had gone back to your place last night, so I had no fucking _clue_ where she was."

"I'm sorry. I thought we would be back before you woke up. I didn't think it would be that big of a deal."

"'Not that big of a deal'? I was about five seconds away from calling the cops! You had absolutely _no_ business coming in here and taking her without me knowing!"

"Mark, you're going to wake the baby," Naomi warns calmly as Aurora starts to restlessly squirm and whimper in her sleep in response to the commotion.

"Why aren't you backing me up here?" He questions, too upset to lower his voice.

"Because I can't yell at him as loudly as I would like to while there is a sleeping infant in the room," she hisses back before kneeling down to try to soothe the baby back to sleep.

"Fine," Archer says, throwing his hands up in defeat. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it. It was a stupid thing to do."

Mark scoffs, "That's an understatement."

"I'M. SORRY."

Archer's loud, insincere apology echoes through the foyer, and before Naomi can shoot him a disapproving look or Mark can yell something back, Aurora is awake, very unhappy, and adding her own angry voice to the argument.

"God, Archer, _now_ look what you did."

xx

Maybe he overreacted. Maybe he should have known that Archer had taken her instead of jumping to the conclusion that some anonymous criminal was responsible. But he was tired, and she is his daughter, and what else was he supposed to think? How else was he supposed to act other than severely pissed off? Archer had _completely_ crossed a line.

"She is his sister's daughter," Naomi shrugs from the doorway of Aurora's bedroom where Mark is pacing with the now-quiet baby held against his chest.

"She's _my _daughter," he responds adamantly.

"He and Addison were close. You know that," she reminds him. Not finding that to be an acceptable excuse, he shakes his head bitterly and moves to sit on the loveseat. "Mark, I'm not trying to defend him, but he is _devastated_. He is hurting just as much as the rest of us are."

"None of that gives him the right to just come in here and take her from me."

"You're right. It doesn't," she agrees as she sits down next to him. "You have every right to be furious with him, but he understands now that he made a mistake, that there are boundaries, and that he absolutely needs to respect the fact that _you_ are her father." He doesn't look at her when she says this, so when he fails respond to her calm demeanor, she puts a firm hand on his knee and continues more sternly. "Look, he's sorry, and I know you're angry now, but you need to talk to him about this. For better or worse, he's going to be part of Aurora's life."

Barely taking a second to consider Naomi's words, he launches into exactly what he has been thinking since Archer walked in the door.

"I just can't believe he thought it was okay to do that. Un-fucking-believable. He always does whatever the hell he wants. He has _always_ gotten whatever he wants his whole life, and now he still acts like a spoiled little shit, and he _still_ gets away with it even though he's forty-two years old," he whispers irately, trying not to upset the baby.

He opens his mouth to say more but pauses because anger isn't the only thing he has felt this morning; there was also a substantial amount of fear.

"I really thought she was gone, Naomi," he finally admits softly, feeling himself getting choked up as the resentment disappears and the feeling of helplessness from an hour earlier returns. "All I could think was that it was my fault, that I was _right there_ in the room, and I didn't hear anyone come in and take her. I thought that I had lost her, too, and that, once again, it was my fault."

"Mark…" she trails off sympathetically.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over. Can we just pretend it didn't happen?" He pleads. He is embarrassed for having revealed so much.

"Archer is still downstairs."

"Tell him to go home. I'm not ready to talk."

He isn't sure when he will be.

For the remainder of the day, he barely puts Aurora down. He holds her close while she is awake and lets her lay on his chest as she sleeps, her weight and warmth a greater comfort to him than ever. He traces light patterns on her back and kisses her little curled fists, thankful that she is safe, and he can continue to keep her safe.

He doesn't think too far ahead these days, but after this morning, he really can't imagine life without her.

xx

As the days pass, the confrontation with Archer is forgotten, largely due to the fact that Archer stops visiting. Naomi often expresses worry over his new solitary lifestyle, but her husband and Mark insist that he's a man, and that, given time, he will be back to being the same old Archer.

Mark has bigger things to worry about. While Archer spends his days locked inside his beachfront home, Mark is fully occupied with learning to be a father. Between books, hands-on lessons, and occasional naps, he is a little overwhelmed, but under Sam and Naomi's guidance, he discovers that something about taking care of Aurora just feels _good_. He is tired-beyond-tired, but he has fallen in love with her little wrinkled knees, dimpled elbows, slightly chubby cheeks, and tiny, soft hands and feet that fit so perfectly in his palms. He relishes being able to calm her, hold her, feed her, and get her to sleep. He is doing something that he feels is truly worthwhile, something that has real significance and that he actually cares about. Even as a gifted surgeon who has changed countless lives, none of his professional accomplishments have ever given him the feeling of satisfaction he gets from doing even the simplest of things for his daughter. After having spent so many months trying to convince himself that he didn't really want this, it surprises him that he has fallen this hard so fast.

But he has.

Still, though, it isn't all smooth sailing. He is not a characteristically gentle and nurturing person, so he often finds himself feeling incompetent and useless when Naomi and Sam have to walk him through and correct seemingly everything he does. Accustomed to excelling at every task he takes on, it's a little discouraging that he doesn't have a natural and instinctive ability to be a perfect parent, but after an eighteen-day whirlwind crash course in caring for a baby, he is ready as he will ever be to do this on his own.

"Mom, come on. We're just going next door. Rory and Uncle Mark will be fine without us," Maya says as she impatiently pulls at her mother's sleeve. The Bennetts are standing in the foyer of Addison's house preparing to return to living next door for the first time in almost three weeks, but Naomi, who is busy giving Aurora a last-minute cuddle, isn't quite ready.

"I know. I have complete confidence that they will be, but I—"

"He's got everything under control, Nae."

"But if she starts breathing fire or her head starts spinning around like something out of The Exorcist, I'll be sure to call you," Mark jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Very funny," Naomi remarks sarcastically, lovingly rubbing Aurora's back while she still can. "Seriously, though, are you sure you have everything you need?"

"We're good."

"And you remember how the security system works?"

"_Mom_," Maya groans.

"I remember."

"Okay then," she relents before giving the baby a kiss on the forehead and handing the little girl over to her father. "We love you guys. I will be over in the morning to check on you, but don't hesitate to call. And remember to eat! I know it's important to bond with her, but you _can_ put her down to eat something."

xx

The silence of the empty house is disconcerting. He hasn't been alone in nearly three weeks, and when Aurora falls asleep shortly after everyone leaves, he isn't sure what to do with himself. There are no footsteps, no hushed voices, and no rustlings in the kitchen— nothing but the near-silent sounds of static over the baby monitor. He is suddenly very aware that this is it. This is the first night of the rest of his life. They are on their own now, and this _has_ to work.

For a brief moment, he feels panicked, but the panic is swiftly replaced by a strong sense of determination. This is _going_ to work because allowing the little girl down the hallway to live his childhood is absolutely not an option. She is his daughter, but he also identifies with her beyond just that. Though their situations are very different, there are significant holes in each of their lives: his parents all but abandoned him before he even hit fourth grade, while she is a child who has unfairly lost her mother. In different ways, they are both alone. He doesn't like to waste time looking back, but he remembers the emptiness, self-loathing, and instability caused by the near-total absence of his parents, and he can't imagine leaving Aurora to feel that. So he won't. He _has_ to do a good job with all of this, and he will. Afterall, Mark Sloan doesn't half-ass anything.

The silence is still unsettling, though, so he busies himself with unloading the dishwasher, filling some bottles, and eating the leftover lasagna that Naomi had made the night before. Afterward, he turns on the television to distract himself, and after only about ten minutes of watching a random show about crab fishing on the Discovery Channel, he hears a small whimper over the baby monitor.

Excited to have her all to himself this evening, he quickly strides to the guest room that has become his, where she is impatiently squirming in her bassinet.

"Hey, you," he greets her softly, sliding his hands beneath her and situating her in his arms. As he leans down to kiss the top of her head, he breathes in and is immediately startled. "Whoa. God. Aurora, you smell, kid," he tells her honestly before patting the back of her diaper and confirming what he already knew. In what seems an almost perfectly-timed response, the baby starts to cry as she grows more and more uncomfortable with her current situation. "Okay, okay. Shh… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, but it's the truth. Fortunately, though, it's a fixable problem, so you can relax."

It still feels a little ridiculous to be talking to someone who can neither speak nor understand what is being spoken, but he is getting pretty good at talking to his daughter, even if it isn't in the cutesy baby voice that everyone else uses with her.

He continues to soothe her as carries her down the hall to the nursery. It's the room closest to Addison's, and though no one has ever said that Addison's room is off-limits, he still hasn't been inside. He is certainly curious as to what it looks like—whether either Archer or Naomi straightened it up or if everything is just as she left it—but even though he walks past the double doors a dozen times each day, he never goes in. One day, maybe, but right now, it's easier to forget that room even exists.

"You know, I wish you could somehow do this by yourself because it's easily my least favorite part about having you around," he tells the baby as he gently goes about cleaning her up while trying to breathe as little as possible. "Everything else is pretty good, but if there were such a thing as magic diapers that made everything disappear, I would be all over that in a second."

Sometimes it feels like this is all she does and all she ever _will_ do. He has seen and experienced a fair bit of not-so-pretty things during his time as a surgeon, but it doesn't make this any less disgusting. Cleaning up after someone in this way is just something that he never in his life thought he would have to do, and up until a few days ago, Naomi was still rolling her eyes at the way he would pull his t-shirt over his nose like a six year-old.

"You know, it's getting late, so how about some pajamas, too?" He suggests, fastening the fresh diaper and making sure it isn't too loose or too snug. "Then we can lay on the floor so you can practice holding your head up, and after that, we can get you something to eat, read a book, watch some SportsCenter, and call it a night. Does that sound good?"

She answers with a sudden jolt and two squeaky mouse-like sneezes in quick succession, and he can't help but fall in love with her just a little more as she reaches up with her tiny pink fists to rub her face. She is perfectly adorable without even trying. He gently pats her stomach, and she emits a soft sigh, stretching out her skinny little legs and kicking at the air.

"I know. It's going to be an action-packed evening. Don't get too excited."

Lifting the baby to his shoulder, he turns his attention to looking through one of the stacks of neatly folded onesies and sleepers in the top drawer of her dresser. There are a myriad of choices in all different colors, patterns, and fabrics. It actually kind of amazes him how many items of clothing this little girl already has, but considering her mother, it's not _too_ surprising. There are probably enough clothes and shoes in various sizes in Aurora's room to last her until her second birthday, for which he is thankful because it at least means he will know how to dress her for a while. "Damn, you've got too much stuff. Let's see. We've got yellow with pink ducks, yellow with pink flowers, white with purple dots, white with dark—"

He stops. It's tucked in the back corner, rolled up instead of folded, and nearly hidden behind everything else, but it catches his eye. He's seen this one before, but not recently: white with dark blue pinstripes and a familiar insignia—the onesie that he excitedly ran out and bought the night he found out that Addison was pregnant.

She kept it.

For some reason, he almost doesn't want to touch it, but he pulls it out from underneath the other outfits in the drawer anyway, not fully believing that she would have actually held onto this after everything that happened. She did, though. Size 0 to 3 months, the shiny tag with the orange price sticker still on; it's definitely the same one.

He drops it back into the drawer almost instantly once the realization hits. He remembers the look of uncertainty on her face the night he gave it to her, how she attempted in vain to hide her fear and doubt by feigning excitement. He remembers how not even a week later, she looked at him with such anger and hurt as she walked out the door for the last time.

It was the last time he saw her.

xx

* * *

**A/N:** The beginning was kind of weak, but I had to get something out. I _will_ finish this story. Let me know if you're still reading :)


	5. Chapter 5

xx

It keeps replaying over and over in his mind.

They had been eating Chinese takeout in silence that evening, each sitting on opposite sides of the couch in his apartment. In hindsight, he knows that she was likely trying to think of a way to tell him that it was over, but at the time, it seemed like she was being cold again for no reason. Ever since she found out about the baby, she had grown more and more distant. And it pissed him off—as did the wedding ring that she still wore _and_ the manila envelope that he had accidentally come across earlier that day.

"_So how long have you had those divorce papers sitting around?" _He had asked matter-of-factly, wanting her to at least acknowledge him. With the way she had been acting, a part of him wanted to just outright accuse her, make _her _look like the bad guy and himself the victim._ "Judging by the date next to Derek's signature, I would guess about a month and a half."_

She froze at first, dropping her fork loudly onto her plate before looking up at him with pure resentment in her eyes.

"_Excuse me?"_

"_He signed them, Addison. He's been gone for two months, and he sent you a signed legal document that says he wants to end your marriage. He isn't coming back. You get that, right? You're with me now. We're going to have a family, and—"_

She tossed her head back and interrupted him with a bitter laugh.

"_Really? A family? How can we be a family when you go and fuck a nurse every time I turn my back?" _Then it was his turn to freeze up. He had a feeling that she might have known, but it shocked him that she was actually bringing it up. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead, she continued. _"Yes, I know about that. Charlene, is it?"_

She abruptly pushed her plate onto the couch cushion and stood up, stalking past him towards his bedroom.

"_Addison—"_

She spun around to face him. "_What? You can explain?"_

He couldn't, of course he couldn't, so he said the first thing that popped into his desperate mind.

"_It won't ever happen again. Ever. Addie, I swear."_

She shook her head.

"_You think that I don't know about the others? Mark, you have been doing this __repeatedly__ since before we even found out I was pregnant." _It was the truth, and there was absolutely no acceptable defense. He couldn't say anything. _"I hope she was worth it,"_

She wasn't. None of them were.

The argument continued into his bedroom, yelling back and forth, hurting each other as much as possible, until Addison started throwing various items of clothing into a suitcase that she had brought over when they first started living together.

"_We're done. I'm leaving. I'll come back for the rest of my things tomorrow when you aren't here. I do not _EVER_ want to see you again."_

"_You'll have to, though. We're having a baby, remember? You can't just take our kid away from me."_

"_Yeah, well, it's my body," _she spoke coldly, without the slightest waver in her voice, "so _I can do whatever the hell I want."_

He felt a momentary chill in his veins when she said it, thinking that she couldn't possibly have meant it in _that_ way, but when he looked in her eyes to see if she was really hinting at what he hoped she wasn't, her face was unforgiving. She _had_ meant it that way.

His heart practically stopped.

"_Wait… y-you're getting rid of it? You're actually considering that?"_

"_It's none of your business."_

He couldn't believe it. That was his _baby_. Sure, he made some nearly inexcusable mistakes, and he almost certainly wouldn't make the world's best father, but he was still attached to that little thing

"_Are you kidding me?! It's my child! You can't do that. Please, don't do that," _he begged. _"Addison, god, please, don't."_

"_You lost the right to have any say in this. I will do what I think is best."_

He doesn't remember their exact last words to each other, but he knows that he regrets them. Her threatening to have an abortion was a pretty low blow, but until she said it, he hadn't fully realized what he had done, how completely selfish and stupid he had been, how his actions were not just _self-_destructive anymore—they were affecting people whom he really did care about.

But there was no going back.

Whether she ever seriously considered terminating the pregnancy, he will never know, but for a while, he thought she may have actually done it. After sweet-talking an OB nurse two weeks later, though, he learned that she still had her first check-up scheduled for the next day. For added confirmation a few weeks after that, the same nurse informed him that she had just faxed Addison's records across the country to her new OB/GYN.

It was a relief. Sure, he had hurt Addison enough to make her want to move 3000 miles away, but he didn't feel as guilty knowing that his mistakes had not cost the baby his or her life. Addison would get over it. They would both move on.

For a time, it was just that simple, but now, months later, at three-thirty in the morning on his first night home alone with their daughter, he feels guilty as hell. Finally, after nearly three weeks, the overwhelmingly painful magnitude of everything is finally overtaking him as Aurora sleeps in his arms after a late-night bottle in her dimly-lit nursery. As he looks down at her, he feels a kind of love that he never could have imagined, but he also feels an indescribable emptiness that he hasn't yet allowed himself to feel until now. Though he is trying to concentrate only on the feel the baby breathing peacefully and steadily against his chest, suddenly all he can think about is how Addison will never have a perfect, tranquil moment like this with their daughter. Addison will never get to hold Aurora as she sleeps or cuddle her when she cries or marvel over her tiny perfect fingers and toes or brush her cheek over downy red wisps of hair. She won't ever be able to do any of that because what remains of her is sitting in a decorative urn in the living room.

The thought almost makes him physically sick.

And then before he has time to really think about what he is doing, he has Aurora in one arm and his other hand on the cool metal handle of the door to Addison's bedroom. It opens with a _click_ when he presses down, and within seconds, he has the baby lying safely next to him on the neatly-made bed and his face buried in one of the pillows. He breathes in deeply, and it smells like her. The pillow smells _just_ like her, as if she was right there with them, and for the first time since all of this started, he starts sobbing.

He wants to wake up.

He wants all of this to just be a vivid, guilt-induced nightmare.

He wants to close his eyes and wake up back in his own bed in New York, before Addison left and before he ever even thought about cheating.

He wants to tell her how sorry he is.

He wants her to still _be._

xx

Aurora is literally his reason for getting out of bed the next morning. His arms and legs feel like lead, his chest feels tight, and all he wants to do is sleep everything away, but when he wakes to soft, content baby noises, he knows that a catatonic day in bed is not the answer. For his daughter, it's just another day, and as her father, it is his job to make sure that it is a good one. Life is about her now. There isn't time for sadness or guilt, and as much as she is his responsibility, she is also his escape.

"You've almost got it," he encourages her that afternoon as they lay face-to-face on their stomachs in the living room. The amount of effort and concentration she puts into trying to crane her neck upwards to look at him is endearing, and he thinks about how funny it is that he will actually be quite proud of her once she gets the hang of it.

Fifteen minutes of mostly unsuccessful efforts is frustrating for her, though, and after this last try, she starts to whimper and kick her legs against the carpet, signaling that she has had enough.

"Okay. Come on, bobble-head. Relax. We can practice more tomorrow," he tells her as he sits up and lifts her into his arms, gently patting her back a few times. She calms almost immediately, and he kisses her forehead. "You did good, though. I bet you'll have it by the end of the week."

Being able to hold her own head up is one thing, but as he looks at her, he really wonders how much longer it will be before she can smile. Right now, she's either asleep, screaming, or neutral, and even though her sleeping and neutral faces are pretty damn cute, a smile would go a long way for his confidence in his parenting abilities.

It might also give him a glimpse of Addison.

xx

One thing he really likes about California is the weather. Having spent so many years of his life in a busy, constantly-noisy northern city, it's nice to have the option of sitting outside in peaceful suburbia with perfect mild weather. It's not too hot and not too cold, and the cloud-cover is just right, so he decides to take Aurora outside for a little while. She hasn't left the house since she arrived home three and a half weeks ago, so he is unsure of how she will react, but once they get settled, he finds that she doesn't seem to notice a difference at all.

Stretched out on a reclining deck chair, he watches as the baby looks around the patio at her surroundings. She seems especially fascinated by the bright yellow flowers in a planter nearby, and she stares, transfixed, at them blowing in the slight breeze until her eyelids drift closed. It feels good to be outside with her—sometimes being inside the house for so long just feels emotionally and physically stifling—but it's another one of those moments where he thinks of Addison and how much she deserves to feel the sun and the breeze and their sleeping daughter. She should be here. He has done so much wrong in his life, and yet he is the one lucky enough to be able to experience this. It's so incredibly backwards. He doesn't understand.

He lays his head back and closes his eyes, imagining what it would be like if they had had the chance to be a real family. She would be sitting in the chair next to him, her left arm resting on the armrest and his hand on top of hers with their fingers interlaced. She would tell him that it was her turn to hold the baby, and he would willingly oblige because she would have looked so beautiful as a mother. They would sit in content silence, enjoying the outdoors and listening to the sound of small waterfall flowing from hot tub into the swimming pool.

Before he can mentally scold himself for imagining such a cheesy scenario, he, too, falls asleep.

xx

"Aww, I wish I had brought a camera."

"Hm?" He opens his eyes to find Naomi approaching them. "Oh, hey."

Aurora is still tucked safely against him, and she is also starting to rouse.

"You look exhausted," Naomi comments as she sits down on the edge of the chair.

"Thanks," he groans sarcastically.

"She _will_ start sleeping like a normal human being eventually. I promise," she says as she reaches out to gently rub the baby's back. "Ugh. We need to find her clothes that she doesn't look so cute in. It's making me miss Maya's baby days."

Today, he had picked out a lavender onesie with a pattern of dark purple hearts and matching lavender socks, and wanting to shield her little face and eyes from the sun, he completed the outfit with a floppy dark purple bucket hat. He has to agree with Naomi—his little girl looks adorable.

"I guess I could stop trying so hard to pick things that match," he jokes, though it wasn't actually very difficult—Addison had arranged almost everything in Aurora's drawers and closet by color.

"Somehow, I think that a mismatched outfit might actually make her even more adorable," she sighs wistfully before changing the subject. "Anyway, has she done anything exciting since I saw you guys last night? Is she talking yet?"

He laughs. "Not yet, but I did catch her reading some Dostoyevsky with a flashlight in her bassinet after I put her to bed."

She grins and continues to play along. "Ugh. Of course. Such a troublemaker."

"She _is_ getting pretty close to being able to turn and hold up her head at will, though," he tells her proudly as he sits up straighter and shifts Aurora so that she is facing Naomi.

"You should find her baby book so that you can write it down once she gets it. We have all of Maya's milestones written down, and it's nice to look back at it." She pauses for a moment, clearly contemplating how to word the next thing she wants to say without mentioning anything too upsetting. "Addison had… she had started one. She had it with her at the hospital, and… _after_, I put it back on the bookshelf in the nursery."

"Oh."

He hasn't seen it, but then again, he hasn't really looked either.

"Yeah. She was obsessive about it," she shakes her head fondly and smiles. "She would only write in it with this one pink pen, and then before she even wrote anything, she would write it out on scratch paper first to make sure it was worded perfectly."

They both laugh because that is _so_ like Addison. In medical school, she would only take notes using black ballpoint pens, and when she would study, she would re-copy her scribbled notes into perfect, neat outlines, complete with color-coded highlights. He used to tease her about it, but he secretly thought it was cute.

God, he misses her. And now he is really curious about that book.

"So, uh, I know you didn't really come here to see me," he smirks, motioning to Aurora. "You want to hold her while I go inside for a few minutes?"

xx

It's the tallest book on the shelf. Bound in white leather, the cover is embossed with elegant pink and silver flowers, and in the middle, there is an oval-shaped window that reads "Insert Baby's Photo Here." He doesn't have much time before he needs to get back outside to Naomi and Aurora, so he sits down right on the floor and opens to the first page where he finds that Addison had written neatly in pink gel pen:

_Aurora Madison Montgomery_

_April 25, 2007_

_7 pounds, 14 ounces_

_19 ¾ inches_

_Saint Ambrose Hospital _

_Santa Monica, California_

Above the writing, there is another "Baby's Photo Here," and in the bottom left corner, there is a cartoon stork holding a bundle in its beak that proclaims "It's a Girl!" Pink and silver flowers just like the ones on the front cover make up the page border.

He flips the page.

_Baby's full name_: _Aurora Madison Montgomery_

_Meaning and origin of baby's name:_ _Initially, I wrote "Aurora" on my list because I loved the story of Princess Aurora in Sleeping Beauty when I was a little girl. There were other names I considered, but after I read that the meaning of "Aurora" is "dawn," it seemed like a perfect fit. I thought it was a very meaningful and unique name that would be perfect for my new baby girl and our new life together. As for your middle name, I thought a combination of my name and your father's name would fit nicely between your first and last names._

He had been curious as to where she had pulled a name like 'Aurora' from, but he had never gotten a chance to ask anyone. It's not that he didn't like it before, but now that he knows that the name had a special meaning to her, he has a new appreciation. As for 'Madison,' he is surprised and touched by the fact that she not only acknowledged him in writing, but also incorporated his name into a name for their daughter. He knows that it didn't stick, and he is more than okay with that—Archer thought it best to drop the 'M' and add a second 'D' after Addison died—but it makes him feel closer to her than he has in nearly a year.

_Other names considered:_ _Carson Kate, Anderson Elizabeth, Emerson Isabella (Notice a pattern? Luckily for you, your Uncle Archer reminded me of how much I hated growing up with a traditionally male name, so you can thank him for pushing for something distinctly feminine.) _

Maybe he'll thank Archer for that, too, someday, he thinks with a short laugh. Carson, Anderson, and Emerson sound like that-kid-is-going-to-get-his-ass-kicked-on-the-playground names for boys, and for a girl, they just sound ridiculous. He loves Addison, and he would still love Aurora even if she was a Carson, Anderson, or Emerson, but those names are cringe-worthy, as far as he is concerned.

This is more insight than he expected to get when he came upstairs, and as much as he would like to read more, he knows he has to get back outside. He is glad that Naomi told him about this—not just for the insight but also because had he unexpectedly discovered it on his own, it would have upset him nearly as much as the onesie did.

And after nearly a week, he is still feeling the aftershocks of that.

xx

"So I ran into the Chief of Staff over at Saint Ambrose when I went over to check on a patient today," Sam tells him over dinner that night at his and Naomi's house. "She isn't a big fan of mine, but she seemed interested in meeting you. Whenever you think you're ready, I mean. Obviously you'll want to spend more time with Rory before you even think about going back to work, but the door is open."

One of the strangest things about this whole situation is that he hasn't seen the inside of an OR since the night Archer called him. It feels like a lifetime ago, and he misses it. He misses being able to put things back together. He misses being in control.

"Oh," he responds, caught somewhat off-guard. "Thanks."

"Don't feel like you need to rush back, though," Naomi tells him.

"Yeah, that wasn't meant to pressure you into anything," Sam adds.

"I know. I just…" He feels torn. As much as he wants to go back, the thought of dropping Aurora at daycare five days a week makes him feel selfish and guilty. He wants her to get all the love and attention she deserves, and leaving her with strangers would just feel like neglect. "I want to go back at some point, but I can't just leave her, you know?"

"It's a balance, that's for sure. I _hated_ leaving Maya when I first went back. I cried every morning when I dropped her off before rounds, and—"

"Not helping, Nae," Sam interrupts.

"I was thinking, though," she continues, shooting her husband a glare. "I'm sure we could work something out where one of us is with her most of the time. Our schedules are pretty flexible at the practice, and we were already planning to let Addison bring her to work."

"I couldn't ask you guys to do that." He still feels very uncomfortable asking for help. They have already done so much for him.

"Are you kidding? This is the closest I'm going to get to having another baby. I'll take any chance I can get to spend time with her."

Before they can discuss further, Maya calls to her mother from the living room where she is playing with Aurora.

"Mom! Come here for a second!"

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, just come and look. She turned her head to look at me when I talked to her."

Mark's eyes widen, and he practically jumps out of his chair to follow Naomi into the other room.

"She isn't doing it again," Maya says disappointedly from her place on the floor. "See if she'll do it for you, Uncle Mark."

"She hasn't done that before, has she?" Naomi asks.

"Uh, we've been working on it this week, but she's never quite done it." He is nervous about being put on the spot. He feels like whether she turns to look is a judgment on how well (or badly) he's doing with this whole parenting thing, so he prefaces his attempt with, "She usually gets tired of laying on the floor after a while, so she might not want to do it again."

"Doesn't hurt to try," Naomi encourages.

He shrugs and crouches down next to her on the carpet, awkwardly clearing his throat, "Uh, hey, Aurora. Can you look over here?"

A few seconds pass, and it's as if she didn't even hear him. She doesn't even attempt to turn her head. He feels embarrassed and even a little bit hurt—she did it for Maya but not for him, her _father_?

"Maybe tomorrow," Naomi suggests hopefully.

xx

Though he agreed to Naomi's "maybe tomorrow," as soon as they arrive home, he sets Aurora down on her stomach on a blanket again. She might be completely sick of all of this time on the floor lately (admittedly, he is, too), and maybe it's a little selfish, but he _has_ to know if she will respond to him.

Laying down beside her with them both facing the same direction, he tries again gently, "Okay. Come on. Look over here, Aurora."

He taps on her shoulder, and though she squirms a little, no effort is made to face him.

Exhaling a deep breath, he lets his eyes close in exhaustion and disappointment. "I don't mean to be a pain, but I wish you would just look at me so I know that I'm doing okay here. I mean, you turned your head to look at Maya, and she's twelve years old. Why not me? I'm your dad, and I'm really trying here," he tells the back of her head with his eyes still closed. "I'm sorry that I'm not a very patient person. I need to work on that. And I know I shouldn't take this personally, but I do. Obviously, I shouldn't because you have absolutely no idea what is going on, but I still do because I want you to like me."

When he opens his eyes, he expects to see the back of Aurora's head, but instead, he finds her little blue eyes blinking back at him.

He laughs because of _course_ she would do it while he wasn't looking.

"Well, aren't you full of surprises?" So proud of her that he can hardly contain his smile, he picks her up, kisses her forehead, and rolls them onto his back with her laying facing him on his chest. "Good job, buddy."

He feels validated.

But mostly just proud.

xx

After he puts Aurora in her bassinet that night, he grabs a pencil and pulls out her baby book. A few pages in, he finds a page labeled "Baby's Firsts," and underneath where Addison had written _first sonogram picture _and_ first kick_, he neatly records her newest milestone.

He hopes that maybe one day he will find that pen of Addison's—the contrast of the grey pencil and the pink ink would have driven her crazy.

xx

* * *

**A/N:** Slightly faster turn-around than last time. I may make some minor edits to this later. I'm starting a new job tomorrow morning, but I felt like I just had to get this out tonight. Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter-- I made sure to get an Addison flashback in this chapter. She'll be in here more as the story progresses. Promisepromise. Coming up over the next few chapters: Mark and Aurora take a trip to the practice, Archer makes a reappearance on Addison's birthday and lets everyone know how he really feels, the Oceansiders help Mark cope, and Mark finds something of Addison's that fills him in on things that he missed.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think or if there's something you would like to see :)


	6. Chapter 6

xx

She gazes up at him with big, curious eyes as he delicately towel-dries her thin layer of hair, looking as though she is as surprised as he is about the fact that her bath went so smoothly. It's the first time he has done this without help, and surprisingly, the only mistake he made was knocking the open bottle of baby shampoo onto the bathroom floor. It left a mess that he will have to clean up later, but for now, he is just relieved that he didn't somehow injure his slippery daughter.

"Thanks for not peeing in your tub this time," he remarks, also appreciative of her cooperation in that particular department, as he wraps her in a pink hooded towel before gathering her against him and walking to her room.

As she snuggles into him in an effort to keep warm, he finds himself instinctively reciprocating so that she can benefit from his body heat. He is still getting used to the cuddling and her seemingly-constant need for human contact, but there is something about a freshly-bathed baby that makes it all feel like second nature. She feels so relaxed, she smells nice, and her skin feels even softer. He also finds her spikey, post-bath hair to be adorably amusing.

Her one-month birthday is tomorrow, and somehow it feels like it has been both the longest and shortest month of his life. Each day often seems to last forever, but in retrospect, time feels like it has passed too quickly. Every day brings them all further from Addison, further away from memories, and further into an unfair world where a certain little girl will grow up without the amazing person who gave birth to her.

Mark wonders, sometimes, if Aurora realizes that someone is missing—after all, she knew Addison's heartbeat, voice, and movements long before becoming aware of anything else. He wonders if she dreams of her when she sleeps, and when she calms upon hearing the dishwasher or a running faucet, he wonders if the sound is triggering her earliest memories of a time when all she knew was darkness, safe warmth, and the constant, comforting sound of her mother's rushing blood. He hates to think that she might be even the slightest bit aware of her loss, but when she suddenly will not stop crying the following night—the night that marks one month since her mother's passing—he feels like she _must_ sense something, regardless of how improbable it seems.

xx

It's as if she knows that Addison has been gone for a full month. Aurora has been crying for well over two hours now, and nothing he is doing seems to have an even remotely calming effect on her. He has tried feeding her, changing her, wrapping her snugly in a blanket, giving her a pacifier, letting her listen to the sound of the dishwasher, rocking her, walking around with her, talking to her, and he even got so desperate as to try singing. _Nothing_ is doing _anything_, and it is getting frustrating. He is starting to feel more and more like a failure with each passing second, and she's just so _loud_, but the frustration takes a backseat to the worry as she continues to carry on with an unwavering intensity. He can't imagine that this kind of behavior could be normal, and he is starting to wonder if there might be something seriously wrong with her. The books he has managed to get through say that extended bouts of crying usually aren't anything severe, but Aurora isn't just crying; she is absolutely screaming. Her tiny body is tense and shaking, and it pains him to think of how exhausted her little lungs and vocal cords must be. He knew it was going to be a bad night for him, but he expected to be caught up in his thoughts rather than dealing with an inconsolable baby. He thought he had her fairly figured out at this point, but now, he has exhausted all options except one.

"I don't know what to do with you," he says to her apologetically as he picks up his cell phone around the two-and-a-half-hour mark while awkwardly bouncing her in his arms. He feels bad about calling Sam and Naomi at this time of night, but he feels even worse for Aurora, so he sucks it up and dials, murmuring an "I'm sorry" to his daughter and to whomever might answer his call.

It rings three times before Sam picks up. "Mark?"

"She won't stop crying, and I don't know what to do," he blurts out desperately over what he is sure must be the loudest wailing he has ever heard. Quickly realizing that he sounds close to tears himself, he clears his throat and continues more evenly. "I'm really sorry to wake you guys. I've tried everything, but she's been going for almost two and a half hours now, and I just don't know what's wrong with her. I'm worried."

"Hang on a second," he says before passing the phone to his wife.

"Mark?"

"Naomi, I'm really sorry, but—"

"No. No, it's okay. We were awake. Don't worry about it. What's wrong?"

"That's just it— I don't know. She's just _screaming_, and it's been almost two and a half hours."

"It's probably colic. You just need to wait it out."

That was not the answer he was looking for. He doesn't know how much more he (or his daughter) can take of this.

"Do you hear her, though? What if there's something really wrong? It sounds like she's hurt or something."

"That's a possibility," Naomi answers—also not what he wanted to hear. "It could be either gas or reflux or both, and it can be really painful."

He knows that she is most likely right, but he is still concerned that it could be something far more serious.

"But what if she has, like, appendicitis, and her appendix bursts, and—"

"Mark, calm down. I seriously, _seriously_ doubt she has appendicitis, but I can come over there if you want. You sound like you need a break."

"No, no. I'm fine," he lies insistently. He needs to be able to do this himself. She is his responsibility, and he can't keep asking other people to do his job. "We're fine. Just tell me what to do."

"Unlock the back door. I'm going to put on some shoes, and I'll be right over."

xx

All it takes is a quick assessment, and Naomi knows _exactly_ what to do. She gives the little girl a gentle belly rub until she begins to quiet, and then after that, she rocks back and forth with her until her breathing returns to normal. Naomi tries to play it off like Aurora just tired herself out, which makes him feel like she is probably thinking about how pathetic and sad it is that he still can't take care of his own child.

"I think you should try switching her formula," she suggests optimistically as they watch the baby eat in her arms. "It might help, and you could even take her out to the store with you, let her experience a new place." She sounds so positive about all of this when all he can think about is how he just spent two and a half unsuccessful hours trying to help his daughter, only to have her walk in and fix everything within fifteen minutes. His lack of a response prompts her to slightly change the subject. "When is her appointment with Cooper?"

"Wednesday," he mumbles from behind his fist, his bare feet resting on the coffee table (even though Addison would have hated that). "Seven-thirty, before you guys open up."

"Well, be sure to mention this, especially if it happens again. He can check her out for reflux and maybe give you some ideas to make her more comfortable."

"Okay," he replies vacantly.

He isn't looking forward to seeing all of Addison's friends again. They seem like nice enough people, but he doesn't want their sympathetic looks or questions about how he and Aurora are doing. They are doing as well as can be expected—not great, but managing so far. The good days are bearable, but the bad ones are _bad_. On those days, he sometimes feels so guilty and sad about Addison that he can hardly breathe. A month after her death and eight months after he last saw her, he misses her. There are reminders of her everywhere, and he still finds it almost inconceivable that someone who was once so alive and such a huge part of his life is now just _gone_. Used to working in a hospital, he sees death all the time, but until now, he has never actually lost someone close to him. He hates so much that it had to be Addison.

And it's not just that. On days when Aurora is particularly ornery, he starts to get ahead of himself, thinking that maybe he rushed into everything, that maybe he will never be a suitable parent. After all, how is _he_ going to raise a _girl_? Addison would have raised her to be polite and feminine, and he has no idea how to even attempt that. Manners aren't his strong suit, he says exactly what is on his mind without any regard to how appropriate or offensive it might be, and he doesn't know how to talk feelings. He doesn't know how to play tea party or dress-up or dolls or whatever it is that little girls play. He can't braid hair or do pigtails or pick out clothes that match. It's just not something that he has any insight into. It's not him. And for things like potty training a girl and eventually puberty and periods, he wonders how the hell _that_ is going to work when all she has is him. He wants what is best for her. He wants to _be_ what is best for her, but there are days where really he wonders if maybe she would be better off with Naomi, Sam, and Maya or even Archer. And then he thinks of how sad it would be if she were to grow up without both of her parents, and then his thoughts then turn back to Addison, and the whole cycle starts over again.

Breaking his trance, Naomi nudges his knee with her own and looks up at him. "Hey, she's fine, Mark. You're doing a good job with her, and I'm glad you felt comfortable calling."

He is still embarrassed about that. "I'm sorry that I woke you guys up."

"We weren't sleeping," she insists, a hint of bitterness in her voice. Weeks ago, he probably would have made a sex joke, but he, surprisingly, doesn't feel like it. She, however, takes the opportunity herself. "And no, we weren't having sex either. We've just been… having problems… and arguments… lately," she reveals hesitantly. "Well, I guess not _lately_. It's been going on for a few months now."

"Oh." Maybe he was too caught up in other things to notice, but they certainly had him fooled. They seemed like the same perfectly happy, loving couple that he knew back in medical school.

"Yeah. We're, uh, thinking about separating. Or, rather, _he_ is thinking about moving out," she explains shakily. "He's just not happy with us. That's really the only explanation he has, and I just don't understand. I mean, we have been together for the majority of our adult lives, and now he just wants to throw all of that away? He doesn't even want to try to fix things, and the only reason he has stayed this long is because I had been guilt-tripping him, and then after Addison died, we needed each other."

He ruins relationships, so he really isn't sure what to say. He is kind of shocked—Addison and Derek were opposites, but the Bennetts always seemed like the perfect match. Sam also never seemed like the kind of guy who would just give up on his marriage, and yet here Naomi is, tearfully confessing that she and her husband are not the couple that they appear to be.

"Shit, I had no idea. I'm sorry."

"I just wish I knew what he wanted from me, you know? And I hate that he's doing this _now_ when there is so much going on. And over _nothing._ God, I almost wish he would have just had an affair or something so that there would at least be a reason." She shakes her head. "Sorry that I'm dumping this on you. You have enough to worry about."

He shrugs, "Hey, I made you come over here at 3:30 in the morning. I owed you one." As bad as he feels for her, he almost feels better, himself, knowing that someone else's life sucks, too.

They lapse into silence as Aurora finishes eating. There hasn't been enough quiet time to reflect tonight on the events of the last month, and he wonders, briefly, if Naomi is thinking the same thing. She is staring blankly out into the darkness, and when he follows her eyes, they land on the urn on the mantel.

"I miss Addie," she murmurs almost inaudibly, leaning her head on his shoulder. It's a movement that he doesn't question. They both need to feel the closeness of another adult, but he wonders how he became the person who comforts the wives of his friends.

"Me too."

xx

Aurora screams the whole way to the practice a few days later. Somewhere over the last week, she went from a calm, mostly-easy-to-please baby to a tiny, unpredictable, screaming nightmare. He has been irritated by noisy children ever since Derek's youngest sister was an infant, and up until lately, Aurora has been tolerable in the noise department, but now, he almost can't take it anymore. She's shrill and unbelievably loud for such a small person, and it seems as though she barely sleeps for an hour at a time before she's awake and expressing her discontentment again. Sometimes, she will suddenly stop, but then without warning, she will start up again. He feels bad for her, of course, but he now has a near-constant headache and has all but resigned himself to the possibility that nothing he does will help her. It almost makes him a little resentful. She is just a baby, and he knows that, but he gave up his entire life for her and is trying as hard as he can; the least she could do would be to just _cooperate_ in order to make his sacrifice _less_ of a sacrifice.

She quiets almost as soon as he parks the car (he finally got his sent over from New York), but his ears are still ringing as he steps into Oceanside Wellness with Naomi and Sam. He has her carseat carrier in one hand and a diaper bag slung over the other shoulder, and he feels _so_ not like a man now. It's the first time he has been out with Aurora, and the pink flower-print diaper bag makes him feel like he is carrying a purse.

"Nice place," he comments as he surveys the lobby of the practice for the first time. He isn't sure what he was expecting, but his entire career has been spent in hospitals, so it's very different from what his is used to. It's very still and quiet with no patients around.

"Thanks," they respond simultaneously before exchanging tense glances. He hadn't noticed the strain between them before, but ever since Naomi's revelation, it has become obvious.

And awkward.

Sam clears his throat. "Uh, it looks like Coop is in already," he says, motioning towards some glass doors that must lead into offices. "That's his door on the far right. You can just go ahead and take her in."

"And come find me before you leave to tell me how it went," Naomi adds.

He nods silently, and they all head their separate ways. As he walks through the lobby, he can't help but think of how this place is _so _not anything like the Addison he knew. It's very nice, for sure, but it also has a very laid-back, relaxed feel that is so different from the fast-paced New York City atmosphere. Everything is colorful and so much more welcoming than a hospital. It's almost difficult to imagine her in a private practice setting.

Cooper sees them coming before they even make it to his office.

"Hey, Mark," he greets upon opening the door, extending his hand for a handshake. "Come on in. It's nice to see you guys."

"Yeah, uh, thanks for seeing her this early," he says as he shuffles inside, noting the large window behind the desk while anxiously searching for a place to set Aurora down.

"Just put her carseat over on the table, and I can take her from there," he tells him. Mark complies, carefully placing the carseat on the table, unbuckling the baby, and stepping back to let the pediatrician do what he needs to do.

Cooper then gets down on his knees so that he is at eye-level with Aurora. "Hi, bug! It's me—Uncle Cooper, remember? We used to have some good talks before you were born."

Immediately, Mark feels jealous. After he had gotten over the initial shock of Addison's pregnancy, one of the first things he found himself thinking about was how _big_ Addison was going to get and how beautiful it would make her and how amazing it would all be to watch (though he would never admit to having thought any of this). Everything was terrifying, but the thought of her slowly growing a little person who would be able kick, hear their voices, and bring them closer together made his heart beat faster. It seemed wonderful. He hates himself for ruining it, and he hates that others got to experience it instead. He met his daughter when she was two days old, and yet, all of these other people—Addison's new coworkers—knew her months before that.

Mark knows that it is because Cooper is a pediatrician and it's his job to make kids feel at ease, but he can't help but feel even more envious as he watches the way other man is able to so effortlessly interact with Aurora. He handles her gently, coos at her, calls her "ladybug," and knows exactly how to keep her calm and comfortable throughout the check-up. Cooper is a natural with her, and Mark knows that even after five weeks, he isn't even close.

xx

Aurora is pleasant and calm throughout the appointment, but almost ten minutes after it ends, they are pacing around the table in the Oceanside kitchen as she cries over the pain inflicted upon her during the last part of her check-up: vaccinations. Knowing what was to come, he felt terrible as he gave her a pacifier and situated her in his arms while Cooper prepared the syringe. As the needle pierced her tender skin, he had to look away. She had been innocently studying his fingers when suddenly, she tensed in his arms, a pained screech filled the room, and the drool-coated pacifier fell to the ground. It had to happen—he knows immunizations are a necessary evil—but it hurt to hear and see his baby in pain.

He shifted her to cry into his chest as soon as it was over—catching hold of one of her little flailing fists, rubbing her back, kissing the crown of her head, trying to comfort her as best as he could—and because Cooper had another patient immediately following Aurora, he then took her to the kitchen to calm down.

"Come on, it's done. I'm sorry. I know, it sucks. No one likes getting stabbed with a needle, but it's done now," he assures her as they walk and gently bounce around the kitchen. "Shhh… stop. You're safe."

There are patients arriving in the lobby, and he doesn't want to be that person who can't shut his own kid up. They may not be able to see the two of them, but as loud as she is right now, people surely must be able to hear.

As they round the corner of the kitchen table again, the door opens, and the shrink—Violet, he remembers—steps in.

"Shots," he explains with an apologetic shrug.

"Oh," she nods sympathetically as she heads to the coffee maker. "Poor thing."

He feels like he is practically sleepwalking as continues to pace with her.

"Shhh… we can't go home until you stop." His reasoning is twofold, partly selfish and partly practical—firstly, his head hurts like a bitch already from noise and lack of sleep, and secondly, he won't be able to hear the GPS over her cries. "There is no way in hell I'm getting in a car with you screaming at me the whole way again."

Violet laughs and sets her empty coffee mug on the counter.

"Here," she offers, pulling out a chair at the table. "Try sitting."

The crying doesn't stop immediately, but it_ does_ lessen in intensity, and by the time Violet finishes preparing her coffee, Aurora is only hiccupping. The change in altitude helped.

Why is it that _everyone_ seems to know what to do with her, lately, except for him?

"Thank god," he groans, reaching over to pull a warm bottle from the thermal pocket of the diaper bag. "Sorry about that."

"No problem. Babies cry. That's what they do." Violet eyes him curiously, and it makes him uncomfortable because he knows she is trying to read him. "You must be exhausted."

She's right. He is, but he isn't going to fall for her attempt at getting him to spill what he is feeling. He doesn't want to talk about being tired, or missing his old life, or Addison, or the rift between himself and Archer. He doesn't need a therapist right now; he just needs some rest.

"I'm alright, you know," he tells her as convincingly as possible. "You don't need to do the shrink thing with me."

"I know," she insists with a half-smile that indicates that she knows he is lying. "Anyway, I have a house call to get to, so I'm going to head out. It was good seeing you guys."

"Thanks."

"And I promise that I'll try not to keep bringing this up, but if you ever need to talk about anything, I'm here."

He nods, acting as though he will consider her offer, but honestly, he just doesn't want to talk to anyone about his life right now, _especially_ a therapist. He doesn't want to analyze and over-think things any more than he already is, and besides that, his shrink in New York was useless.

xx

On the way back home (he tries to think of it as "home" now instead of "Addison's"), he stops at a grocery store to pick up a few different things to help with Aurora's current digestive issues, as per Cooper's and Naomi's suggestions. Luckily, she sleeps for the entire ride this time, and she doesn't wake up until he is struggling to get her carseat to sit evenly on the shopping cart without tipping over. Even then, she is quiet, and for that, he is extremely thankful.

He is comparing the labels on two different types of formula (not really knowing exactly what he's looking for), when he hears someone speaking to him.

"Giving mom a break, huh?"

He turns to see an older, grey-haired woman giving him a friendly smile. "Sorry, what?"

"I'm sure your wife must appreciate you taking the little one for the afternoon."

Her stares at her with his mouth part-way open for a couple seconds as he processes exactly what is going on. His wife. Addison. She assumes he is married, married to Addison.

"Oh, well, actually," he sputters uncomfortably, feeling very much like a deer in the headlights and stopping himself before he says _Actually, her mother died in April. _He doesn't want to talk about it. He doesn't want questions or an awkward expression of pity, so he decides to just go with the woman's assumption. Forcing a smile that he hopes doesn't look too fake, he gives a short laugh and lies as best as he can, "Yeah. I'm just… trying to help out."

"That's very sweet of you, dear. She's a lucky woman," she replies warmly before motioning towards Aurora. "How old?"

"Five weeks."

"Brand new," she muses with a sigh. "She's a beautiful little girl."

"Thank you."

The woman then smiles, nods, and casually continues on her way. Their brief exchange, though, has thrown him completely off-balance and left him staring in a daze at his daughter.

He had not considered how people might react to seeing them together. He knows that fathers, traditionally, are not the primary parents and that, to some, he might be seen somewhat of an anomaly, but he never anticipated questions about the whereabouts of mother of his child, never thought strangers would approach him just to make small talk about the perfect little girl who currently has one of her fists halfway in her mouth and her tiny feet kicking away contentedly. He realizes now that they are going to stick out more than a mother and average baby might. He realizes now that there will be a lot of questions from strangers, a lot of pretending, a lot of being reminded that Addison is gone, and suddenly, he is grabbing Aurora's carseat carrier and making a beeline towards the exit with her, abandoning the shopping cart in the middle of the aisle.

The formula is going to have to wait—he can't stand to be in that store another second.

xx

Upon arriving home, he finds himself in Addison's room again. It's the first time he is seeing it in the daylight and only the second time that he has been inside. The walls are a sunny, happy yellow, and the décor is equally as cheery—the opposite of how he is feeling.

"She thought we were married," he mumbles dismally into one of the sham pillows on the bed. Maybe if he hadn't messed up so badly, they would have been someday. He breathes in her scent. It would have been nice. For a few minutes, he closes his tired eyes and lays there thinking of the possibilities, but when his thoughts drift to Aurora, his eyes fly open and he jolts to his feet.

He left her in the car.

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit._

She was so quiet on the ride home that he completely forgot about her. Cursing himself for being such a terrible parent, he rushes down the stairs two at a time and into the garage. Passing Addison's black Lexus, he can hear Aurora crying in the backseat of his Escalade, and even though she has only been in there _maybe_ ten minutes, he feels awful. It's the beginning of June in California, and it's hot outside, and what if he had completely forgotten and just _left_ her there? He could have killed her.

He fumbles with the door handle, and as soon as he gets it open, he scrambles to free her from her carseat. "Shit, Aurora, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he tells her, feeling sickeningly guilty as he lifts the tiny seatbelt harness over her head. His heart is beating so fast that he can hardly breathe. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

Once he pulls her from the car and closes the door behind them, he fans her face with his free hand in an effort to cool her down, still apologizing profusely as they step back inside the house. The car didn't even feel hot, but he knows that if he had left her for any longer, it _could_ have been.

"I can't believe I did that to you," he murmurs sadly as they climb the stairs and head back to Addison's room. "Oh my god, I can't believe I did that."

He flips the switch for the ceiling fan as they enter, and though he just wants to hold her tightly to feel that she is okay, he lays her on her back in the center of the bed so that she can cool off. She is crying, but she seems to be fine. Her face is red from her tears—not from being overheated—and her skin feels as warm as it always does—not too hot.

"Okay. You're okay," he says softly, more as a reassurance to himself than to her. Taking one of her clenched fists into his hand, he runs his thumb over her little knuckles and repeats, "You're okay."

He can't _believe_ that he could do something so stupid.

* * *

**A/N: **So. That was a lot. I know that all of this really angsty in comparison to other stories on here (which might be a turn-off to some), so thanks for reading and sticking with me. :)

Also-- when I started writing this, I wasn't expecting it to be nearly as Mark-centric as it has become, which makes me wonder if I should move this to the Grey's section of the site. ?


	7. Chapter 7

xx

She was wearing only a towel when she walked into the bedroom that night. Having just stepped out of the shower, her hair was still dripping, and she smelled like apricots, but rather than her usual confident posture, her shoulders were slumped forward, and her steps towards the dresser were slow. She seemed upset, tense, and preoccupied, and as she fished out a pair of panties and a tank top, he realized from his place on the bed that she was mumbling to herself.

Assuming that she had lost a patient, he propped himself up on his elbow and cleared his throat to get her attention, _"Everything okay?"_

She jumped in alarm. _"I didn't know you were awake," _she replied, her back still to him.

"_Yeah, I'm up." _He had been asleep for a while already when she arrived back at his apartment, but the running water of the shower woke him. _"Come here. Are you okay?"_

He patted her side of the bed to get her to lie next to him, and she approached almost fearfully. Something was different about her lately—she seemed detached and avoidant, and he couldn't figure out why.

"_Hey," _he said gently, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder after she lay down._ "Rough day?"_

He waited for her to begin some story about losing a mother or a baby or both, but instead, she surprised him by cupping the back of his head and crushing her mouth to his with a frantic desperation he hadn't felt from her before. She sucked hard on his lower lip and pulled at his hair, and as soon as she slipped a hand into his boxers to stroke him, he had completely forgotten about having asked her a question at all. It was unexpected and intense, and he was all too happy to play along, quickly removing her towel and throwing it onto the floor behind him.

The onslaught was a little rougher and faster than usual, but because it seemed to be headed in the same familiar direction and he was more than enjoying it, he didn't think to question anything; it just seemed like a method of stress relief. She was so beautiful as she pulled him on top of her, her chest heaving as she gasped for air, and he grinned at her before discarding his boxers and leaning down for another bruising kiss.

A minute later, as he was engrossed in leaving a line of open-mouthed kisses and small bites from her shoulder to behind her ear, she said it:

"_I'm pregnant."_

And immediately, he froze.

"_What?"_ He was so shocked that he could hardly speak, but he forced himself to push himself up on his forearms to look at her.

"_I don't want to discuss it."_ Her face was blank—not happy, not sad, just emotionless green eyes staring back at him—and without hesitation, she wrapped her legs around his waist and thrust her hips upwards, hoping he would get the hint.

He did, but even as she resumed kissing him, there were a million questions swirling in his mind that would not allow him to move. He wondered if she had been pregnant all along. He wondered if she would go back to Derek.

"_Does Derek know?"_

She kissed him harder and pushed him onto his back.

"_Derek isn't the father, and I really do not want to talk right now." _She slid down onto him, grinding her hips against his, leaning forward to suck at his collarbone, and showing no signs of letting up any time soon.

Normally, he would have been incredibly turned on by her taking charge like that, but he was too caught up in what she had just told him. He was going to be a father. They were going to have a baby. It was _huge_, and he couldn't just pretend, like her, that it wasn't. He should have known something was up—she always used sex as a distraction. _"Addie, stop. _Stop_." _ His body absolutely wanted her to continue, but what she just told him was life-changing.

She ceased her movements but refused to look at him, so he rolled them so they were lying facing each other on the bed and slipped out of her.

"_My god, Addison. We're going to have a _baby_," _he had said breathlessly. Thoughts of their disagreements, all his other women, and her ever-present wedding ring were suddenly so far from his mind. All he could think about was _them_: Addison and their son or daughter. He hugged her tightly to convey his support and budding excitement. A family was something he never planned on, but with her, it seemed do-able—_great_, even. Her body stiffened, and once he realized that she was barely reciprocating, he pulled back to find that she still didn't want to look at him. His heart sank._ "You're not happy?"_

She ignored the question and avoided his eyes, pressing her body up against his and kissing him harshly over and over in an effort to get him to just shut up and continue their activities.

She seemed so desperate. Her breathing was heavy, and her hands and mouth were everywhere. _"Let's just… let's just do this, okay? Please? Can we just do this?"_

He was kissing her back—he couldn't refuse—but mentally, he was somewhere else. Taking a deep breath to muster all the self-control in his body, he pulled away, grasped her hands, and held her still, stopping her once again.

"_Addison—"_

She looked at him pleadingly as she shook her head with a hint of tears in her eyes.

"_No. Please, Mark, I need you. On top of me. Right now. Please?"_

And because he is also a big fan of using sex as a distraction, he acquiesced against his better judgment. He wonders now if maybe he should have pushed harder to get her to talk, then maybe things could have ended differently. In hindsight, it's excruciating. He was so close. Lying curled against her that night was really one of the only times that they were all three together as a family, and he didn't even bother to savor the moment. He tries so hard to remember the post-sex details, but all he can manage to recall for sure is that he fell asleep before she did, excited about the baby and breathing in the faint scent of her expensive apricot-scented body wash.

He thought they had more time.

xx

"Naomi is worried about you," Sam tells him one night after dinner while the Bennett girls are playing with Aurora in the living room at Addison's house. "I've been telling her to just give you time and to let you say something if you need help, but I just want to make sure you really don't need anything."

"I'm fine."

But they both know he's not; the last six weeks are noticeably catching up to him. He barely remembers the last time he showered or shaved or even changed his clothes. There are used bottles and dishes sitting in the sink, and there is a growing mountain of dirty baby clothes on the floor in Aurora's room (he can't find it in himself to care about throwing them in the hamper). Each day is becoming hazy: falling in and out of sleep, thinking too much, and tending to the baby whenever she makes her presence or needs known. He barely has any energy. He also doesn't have an appetite, so he only eats because he knows that he has to, and when he does, it's usually only a snack. Naomi brings over dinner on most nights, which he appreciates more than he can say, but otherwise, he doesn't have the time, energy, or patience to prepare an actual meal.

"Look, I remember how tough it was when we first had Maya. I can't imagine how it must be to have to do all of it yourself, so if you need a few days to just regroup, we would be happy to take the baby."

Sometimes he is so out of it now that he finds he doesn't even talk to Aurora. Late one afternoon, he went to answer his phone, only to have his voice come out raspy because he hadn't spoken all day. It's all mechanical. He goes through the motions without much thought, and he knows it's selfish, but right now, meeting his daughter's physical needs is the best he can do.

"I'm fine," he insists.

She still doesn't sleep enough hours at a time, she is becoming a very fussy eater, her colic and reflux are still on-going issues, parts of the house are a complete mess, and _he_ is a mess. He can't sleep soundly even when she does—always thinking and over-thinking or just waiting to hear her wake up—and he doesn't have it in him to actually get up and do anything productive. He just lays there instead of taking care of himself or the dishes or the laundry. Yes, he could use a few days or a week or even two to 'regroup,' as Sam said, but now that he knows that his friends are on the verge of divorce, there is no way he is going to ask for any more of their help. He doesn't want to be even partially responsible for the break-up of another marriage.

"Okay. I'll stop asking, but if Nae comes back in here and those bottles aren't out of the sink and being cleaned,_ I'm_ in trouble, so can I at least help you with those?"

"Sam—"

"Come on, man. It needs to be done, and it will make her stop nagging me about checking up on you."

"Fine," he agrees, reluctantly pulling himself out of his chair and dragging his feet towards the sink. If doing this will help ease the tension between the friends who have done so much for him, he might as well do it.

"And maybe when we're done, Nae and I can sit with the baby so you can go take a shower without having to worry about anything."

Except that every time he showers in the bathroom of his guest room, he eventually finds himself sitting on the floor of the glass stall, clinging to a bottle of Addison's apricot body wash and trying to remember how she smelled, felt, tasted, and sounded. It feels pathetic, so he avoids the situation as much as possible, but if Sam is nudging him towards cleaning himself up, he knows that he must look like a disaster. Which is embarrassing because until recently, he had always taken pride in his appearance. He's a grown man, and now he's a father. He shouldn't have to be told when to bathe. That in itself is pathetic.

"Hey—where do you keep her little nail clippers?" Naomi asks as she enters the kitchen.

He started clipping Aurora's fingernails earlier that day when he noticed that her little flailing hands had accidentally scratched her face. He waited until she was napping to do it, but he was only able to get through three tiny fingers before she moved in her sleep and caused him to nick her fingertip. He cringed and sucked in a sharp breath as he watched a small drop of her blood surfaced from the cut, and even though she didn't seem to be in pain, he felt terribly guilty.

That was it for clipping baby fingernails for him.

Before he can answer Naomi about the nail clippers, though, Maya interrupts and yells from the living room, "Uncle Mark! Rory just barfed all over the carpet!"

_Fantastic_, he thinks. Aurora is still dealing with reflux even though he switched her formula two days ago. She has always spit up a lot since the day she came home from the hospital, but the frequency and volume has reached an all-time high in the last couple weeks.

"Mark, maybe you should get Cooper to check that out again?"

It never stops: wash clothes, shower, rinse and sanitize bottles, eat, wash dishes, feed the baby, play with the baby, change the baby, bathe the baby, sleep, wake up with the baby, listen to the baby scream and cry, calm the baby, clip the baby's fingernails, take the baby to the doctor. He wonders how Addison would be handling all of this if she were around.

Her birthday is coming up this weekend; she would have been 39.

xx

"Well, she's dropped a few ounces since her check-up last week," Cooper informs him as he reads the scale where Aurora lays kicking her legs and wearing only a diaper. "How long has she been on the new formula?"

"About three days," he answers honestly, knowing that he waited almost a week too long to finally ask Sam to pick some up at the store. He feels like a bad father, purposely letting her suffer by feeding her something that was clearly causing her discomfort and not giving her the proper nutrition she needed.

And as if that isn't enough, he is mortified by what happens next. Just seconds after Cooper lifts Aurora off the scale, her eyes get wide, she makes a gurgling noise, and before Mark can even warn him, the baby spits up all over the front of her pediatrician's button-down shirt.

"Whoa," Cooper exclaims with a good-natured laugh as he wipes the baby's mouth with his thumb.

"Oh god. Here," Mark offers, fully embarrassed, as he reaches out to take his daughter. "Shit, I'm sorry. I knew I shouldn't have fed her before putting her in the car."

"Hey, don't worry about it. I'm a pediatrician. Believe me, I've seen _much_ worse," Cooper assures him as he walks back towards his desk, seemingly unfazed by what just happened. "Like coming-out-both-ends kind of worse. A little baby spit-up is _nothing_ compared to that." He slides open a drawer, pulls out a fresh polo shirt, and tosses it onto his desk to change into after the appointment. "See? I'm prepared for this sort of thing. Don't worry about it. And besides, now I can actually see what you're dealing with."

"She spit up in my mouth a few days ago." It had been the last straw that finally drove him to ask Sam to pick up some new formula. "I'm not even quite sure how it happened, but my _god_…"

"Not your best moment together," Cooper laughs sympathetically as he walks back over to them, wiping at his shoulder with a paper towel. "Okay. Let's come up with a game plan to fix this."

xx

Naomi wanted him to check in with her before they left the practice so that she could hear about Aurora's appointment, so after settling his daughter back in her carseat carrier, he walked them a few doors over to his friend's office. He didn't think to knock, but he wished he had because when he entered, Naomi and Sam were bitterly arguing over something in elevated whispers.

"Sorry," he mumbles awkwardly as he looks back and forth between the two, who have immediately stopped their conversation. "I'll just head out."

"Oh, no," Naomi insists, trying to act as if nothing is wrong. "Come on in."

"Yeah, I need to go anyway. I have a patient. You guys can go ahead," Sam says as he walks towards the door, shooting Naomi a look over his shoulder as he leaves.

The tension between them seems worse than ever lately.

"Come sit down," she says, motioning towards the couch in her office. "How did it go?"

"He gave me a list of things to try and a prescription that she, hopefully, will not have to use," he replies, setting Aurora's carseat and diaper bag on the floor and collapsing onto the couch.

"Sounds promising." He is sure that she means it, but the smile on her face is forced, and she looks close to tears.

"She lost some weight, though, so we have to come back next week to make sure she's gaining again and keeping formula down," he continues. "Oh, and she ruined Cooper's shirt."

Aurora starts to fuss from her position on the floor, and Naomi jumps at the chance to tend to her.

"Aw, don't worry about it. That kind of thing comes with the territory of being a pediatrician," she assures him while lifting the baby to her shoulder. "It'll come out in the wash."

He shrugs and watches as Naomi cuddles Aurora and coos at her, stopping the little girl's tears before they even start. She is so good with his daughter, and he really wishes that Sam would stop being such an idiot and realize how lucky he is to have her.

"Hey—so we were thinking about inviting Archer over for Addie's birthday," she says after a few minutes. He gives a somewhat juvenile whine of disapproval, and she responds in the voice that she probably uses when Maya does the same sort of thing. "No, none of that. You two ignoring each other is getting ridiculous."

Even before their argument over Archer taking Aurora to the airport, the two of them weren't exactly the best of friends. Professionally-driven, womanizing, cocky, and crass—their similar personalities have clashed ever since medical school.

"Yeah, well, he's ignoring everybody," he points out in defense.

"He's still hurt and embarrassed over what happened last month, and he's still grieving," she reasons, shifting the baby to lay across her lap. "Mark, he rarely goes out anymore, and he hasn't seen his niece in a month. That isn't right."

"He's probably just writing."

"Who cares what he's been doing? He shouldn't be alone on Sunday night, and as long as we're all going to be together, he should be there, too."

He is clearly losing this battle, and when he pauses to plan his next comeback, it occurs to him that there really is no good reason why Archer shouldn't be invited to come over and a million reasons why he should. He hadn't realized just how long it had been since Archer last saw Aurora. Not wanting to outright admit that he was wrong, though, he replies, "Even if you invite him, he's never going to show."

Archer flew out to the Montgomery summer estate on the shore of Martha's Vineyard for a week almost immediately after Bizzy left, taking half of Addison's ashes with him to disperse over the place where the two of them made their happiest childhood memories. He didn't return phone calls, and when he arrived back in California, he would answer only occasionally for Naomi.

"Well, he picked up when I called last night, and when I asked him, he agreed to come over," she tells him. "He sounded _miserable_, Mark, and he has too much pride to admit it or ask, but he needs to see that baby."

"Fine."

xx

At Cooper's suggestion, he puts Aurora down for a nap in her baby swing after she eats. The swinging mechanism is turned off, so it's stationary, and he is hoping that having her lay in a different sleeping position will help her stomach to settle. As her tired eyes fight to stay open, he tucks a thin yellow blanket over her and then settles back on the floor of the guest room to watch.

"You're not missing anything exciting. You can sleep," he tells her softly, brushing the back of his fingers over her cheek and allowing her to grasp his index finger. "Sleep for a looong time. That would be perfect."

She is looking more like a real person these days. Her skin tone has changed from pink to one resembling her mother's, and her eyes have faded from a deep cobalt to an icy greyish-blue that is identical to his own. Though she doesn't strongly resemble either him or Addison yet, it is obvious that she is their child, and when he really stops to think about who this little girl is, it still amazes him to think that he and Addison actually _made her _together, that the genetic material that makes her _her_ is half Addison's and half his own.

She has been an especially overwhelming responsibility lately, but he is now optimistic that some things will soon change and give him back the sanity he needs to be her father. He has hope that something on the list Cooper gave him will be the solution to Aurora's discomfort and inability to keep food down.

When she is finally asleep, he removes his finger from her grip and gingerly smoothes his hand over her wispy hair. "Feel better, baby."

He's so tired that he decides to just go to sleep on the floor next to her.

xx

He remembers her birthday last year—it wasn't too long before their affair began. Derek was in Boston for a conference, and Addison, of course, was upset. They had grown especially close over the last few years as Derek's absences became more frequent, and for the first time in his life, he found himself actually wanting to do something really special for someone else. He planned a surprise dinner—attended by Archer, Savvy, and Weiss—at her favorite restaurant, and then afterwards he took her home to watch a DVD of her choice. It was simple, but as she lay with her head in his lap on the couch, she confessed shyly that it was one of the best she had in years. She sat up and kissed him then, and though she ended it within a few seconds, he knew that they had overstepped the boundaries of regular, innocent friendship.

This year, he, Archer, Sam, and Naomi are sitting in silence on the back patio of her house without her. It's dark, and the mood is tense and somber because no one knows what to say. He is slowly turning his half-empty glass of scotch around on the table, Archer is drowning his feelings with alcohol, Sam has been sipping the same beer since he arrived, and because she is the only one with an appetite, Naomi is halfway through Addison's favorite double chocolate cheesecake. As a Catholic, she firmly believes that her friend is in a better place, and Mark envies that belief. He has never seen a reason to believe in anything, especially now, and he can't help but think that life would be so much easier if he thought Addison were somewhere looking down on them with a glass of red wine and her own slice of cheesecake.

They sit like this for over an hour until Archer stands to pour himself yet another glass of scotch and breaks the silence.

"So did you even care about her at all or were you just using her because you knew she was vulnerable?"

Mark looks up to see Archer staring at him bitterly; he wasn't expecting anyone to speak tonight, much less something like this. "What?"

"Addison," he answers matter-of-factly, taking a sip of his drink. "Just admit it. You took advantage of her. You didn't really care. I mean, if you did, how could you screw all those other women behind her back? How could you do that to her? Did you think she wouldn't figure it out? Did you think she was stupid?"

He asks himself those questions nearly every day, but it seems a hundred times worse when someone else is pointing out exactly how he hurt her.

As Archer's voice takes on an increasingly angry tone, Naomi gives Sam a look that prompts him to intervene. "Oh, come on. Archer—"

"No, Sam. He hurt her, and I want to know why and what the hell he was thinking." Mark knows he can't answer that, so he doesn't even try. He is going to hate himself every day for the rest of his life for what happened, and it is humiliating that Archer is confronting him like this. "No excuse, huh?"

"Nope," he murmurs vacantly.

He could argue that Archer has done the exact same thing to countless other women, minus getting them pregnant, but he doesn't. It's not going to make what he did any less wrong, and when he sees Archer's fist clench, he knows what is coming next.

But he doesn't care enough to even try to block the hit.

"Archer, no! No! Stop it!" Naomi scolds, jumping to her feet just as her husband steps in to restrain Archer from throwing another punch.

"Hey! No way, man. Back off," Sam orders as he grabs Archer's wrists.

He initially struggles against him, but then relents and smugly crosses his arms over his chest.

"I've wanted to do that for _months_," he gloats.

"Well do you feel better now? Did it fix anything?" Naomi yells angrily. "I'll answer that one for you, no, it didn't." She turns her back to Archer and goes to examine the bruise already forming on Mark's face. "God, Mark. Are you okay?"

It hurts like hell, but outwardly, he just can't seem to react. He knows deserved what just happened, but he is surprised to find that the pain doesn't make him feel any less guilty.

"You're done. I'm taking you home," Sam tells Archer sternly, taking hold of his shoulder as if disciplining a child. "Now."

"I can drive myself."

"Like hell you will," Naomi threatens. She might be angry with him, but there is no way she is letting him drive home when he is this intoxicated. "You're upset, you have had too much to drink, and you can barely walk straight. If you try to drive like this, you'll get into an accident and kill yourself."

This seems to hit a nerve with Archer.

"You know what? Maybe I want to. Maybe I don't care."

"Stop it," Naomi demands, her voice wavering. "Don't say that."

"No. I mean it. I don't care anymore. I don't fucking care about _anything_," he insists through angry tears. "She's dead. My sister is dead, and he never even apologized for what he did to her. God, when she showed up at my front door crying on the night she left him, I wanted to go over there and murder him with my bare hands, but I didn't because she needed someone to take care of her more than she needed someone to kill him.

"And now he just gets to come in and be the hero when _I_ was here all along. The only reason why Aurora exists is because _I_ talked Addison into keeping her. She didn't want to be the single mother of a baby whose father reminded her of the worst mistake of her life, but I told her I would take care of her and help her through everything, and I did. _I_ moved here for her._ I_ helped her through morning sickness, food cravings, and hormonal meltdowns because she was my sister and she needed someone because _he_ wasn't here. He didn't do _anything_ for them, but now he gets to fly in, take my niece from me, and have people tell him how fucking _wonderful_ and _great_ and _selfless_ he is when he isn't any of those things. He hurt her, and I—" His breath hitches when Aurora's cries suddenly sound from the baby monitor sitting on the table. "I just miss her. I miss her so much, and it's not fair that he gets to raise that little girl instead of her."

Without hesitation, Mark grabs the baby monitor and pulls himself to his feet. He is in no condition—physically or emotionally—to do much of anything right now, but he really just needs an excuse to get away from this disaster of a night. Naomi looks up at him worriedly, and he knows that if he gives her another few seconds, she'll offer to come in and help, but right now, he really just wants to be alone. "I'll get her," he assures her.

"Mark…" she trails off sympathetically.

"I'll be fine. I've got her," he insists. "Just get him the hell away from me."

* * *

**A/N:** So. Archer is pissed, and his outburst is going to have a pretty big effect on Mark. Hopefully, I can get the next part out even faster than I did with this one. The plan is that this story will have 12 parts total, including the epilogue (the only part in which Aurora will not be a baby), and I'm sort of kicking around the idea of a sequel, too, but we'll see. Anyway. Thank you for reading and for all the nice feedback! :)


	8. Chapter 8a

xx

He enters the house feeling like a zombie, dragging himself through the darkened kitchen to start warming a bottle before heading up the stairs to where his daughter is awake and crying. His jaw is throbbing, his whole head hurts, and he is still reeling from everything that just occurred outside, but Aurora takes priority, and she needs to eat.

It's an odd sensation when he picks her up from her bassinet—almost like an out-of-body experience. He can see when his arms move to lift her, and he can see now that she is situated against his shoulder, but it is as if he is watching from the outside. He doesn't really _feel_ any of it, and when he makes his way back down the stairs with her, he is barely aware that his feet are even touching the ground at all.

He is a terrible person, an awful person, and as Archer's words echo through his head while Aurora eagerly begins to fill her stomach, he feels more disgusted with himself than ever before. What kind of man goes after his best friend's wife? What kind of man tries to convince his pregnant girlfriend that they belong together when he is consistently sleeping with other women behind her back? Someone who has no business having a child. Someone who doesn't deserve any sort of sympathy or forgiveness. Someone who deserves far worse than a quick punch to the face. Archer was right—he isn't selfless, great, or wonderful, and it isn't fair that he gets to see Aurora grow up instead of Addison.

Aurora is perfect. She might be cranky with an upset stomach most of the time, but everything about her is still absolutely perfect. She's just this sweet, innocent little thing who deserves so much more than he alone can give her. He's not that guy. He wants to be, and he has been trying, but it's not enough. He loves her, but taking care of her is more than he bargained for. He also knows that the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior, and with his track record, the odds of him continuing to be the responsible father that he has been over the last six weeks are laughably minuscule. He looks at her, and he hates himself, feeling as though he robbed this little girl of a happy life with a loving mother who would have been an infinitely better parent.

The living room is silent except for Aurora's light sucking noises. Everything is still, and the guilt is overwhelming once again. This is Addison's house, and as far as he is concerned, her blood may as well be on his hands. How can he live here for the next eighteen years? How can he live with himself for the rest of his life? How will he ever be able to look into his daughter's eyes once she is old enough to understand?

Archer brought him back to reality tonight.

He can't do this. He was stupid to think he could.

xx

By the time he has Aurora lounging in her baby swing 45 minutes later, he knows what he has to do. Nearly every last shred of confidence he had in himself when it comes to raising her is gone, and even if he were to manage to change and pull himself together, he will never _ever_ be enough. No matter how hard he tries, and no matter how good he is to her, he will never make up for what he did and what she has lost.

So he pulls out the largest suitcase from underneath his bed and begins to pack, opening dresser drawers and haphazardly tossing everything over his shoulder.

He has to leave, and he has to do it now before he manages to talk himself into staying and inevitably hurting his daughter just as badly as he hurt her mother.

"Hey, I just wanted to—What are you doing?"

He pauses briefly at Naomi's sudden appearance in the doorway but then ignores her and goes right back to business, throwing the last pair of socks out of the dresser, closing the drawer, and moving on to the walk-in closet.

"Mark?"

He grabs an armful of clothes on hangers, but upon turning around, he discovers that she is blocking his way back into the room.

"Mark, what's going on?"

His breath catches in his throat, and he feels sick to his stomach. He hadn't thought far enough ahead as to what he was going to tell his friends, so for a few moments, he just stands there, opening and closing his mouth as he tries to formulate an explanation.

"I can't do it anymore," he finally confesses, voice wavering and fully ashamed of himself as he stares down at the crisp white dress shirt on top of the pile in his arms. "I can't be her dad. I-I don't know what I was thinking, but I can't do this. I'm not ready. I'm not a good guy. I just… can't."

He looks up to see her reaction and finds her shaking her head in open-mouthed disbelief.

"No. Mark, no. Is this about what Archer said? Because he was out of line. He has barely seen you with her. He doesn't know what kind of father you are."

He's the kind of father who forgets his daughter in the car, who can't clip little fingernails, and who can barely take care of the two of them. He doesn't coo at her like Naomi and Maya do, and he doesn't know how to play little games with her like Sam and Cooper do. All he can manage is the bare minimum. Maybe because he just doesn't have the will. Maybe because he just isn't cut out for this.

Also, he misses his old life: freedom, women, sex, and surgery. And what kind of person would even consider those things in a situation like this? Only him.

"Archer knows what a shitty excuse for a person I am in general, though, and as a father, I am mediocre at best."

"So you're just going to pack up and leave in the middle of the night? Do you even realize how irrational that is?" She asks, her voice taking on an increasingly angry tone.

He didn't think his leaving would upset her this much.

"It's not irrational. I wasn't going to leave until morning," he argues feebly, trying to keep his voice down so as not to scare his daughter and wishing that Naomi would just get out of his way. "You'll take her, right? You'll take Aurora?"

"Are you kidding me? No! Absolutely not," she responds incredulously. "You need to stop and _think_ about this for more than just a few minutes, Mark. You can't make a decision like this based on some stupid drunken crap that Archer said."

"Yes, I can, because he was right. You can't deny that. _Everything _he said was the truth, and I _have _thought about it," he explains, pausing to compose himself before he turns into a pathetic sobbing mess. "_Please_," he begs. "You know what you're doing. I trust you. You love her. She would be better off. You know she would be."

"Sam and I are about one argument away from separating for good, so no, actually, she wouldn't be. Aurora would _not_ be better off. Mark, she is your child, and you can't just—"

"I have to," he interrupts as his eyes overflow with hot tears of desperation. He is begging her. "I _have_ to do this _because_ she is my child. _Please_, Naomi. _Please_. Just let me go."

She seems to be speechless as her own eyes fill with tears, but then she breathes in roughly through her nose, and her face takes on a look of determination.

"Come out here," she says sternly, stepping aside and pointing to a random spot on the carpet.

"Naomi—"

Before he can even begin to protest, though, she grabs the clothes out of his arms and throws them to the ground.

"No. Come out here, and go sit on the bed. Now."

He stares at her dumbfounded, and when he fails to move, she grabs him by the arm as if he were a child being sent to time-out and directs him to sit next to her on the bed facing Aurora. He is shaking now, his head hurts more than ever, and that nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach is worsening.

"Look at her, Mark. _Look _at her," she demands pleadingly, motioning to the little girl who is sucking on two of her own tiny fingers while blinking away sleep. "She can't tell you yet, but she loves you. She doesn't know who you used to be or what you have done, and she doesn't care because all she knows is that you have been taking care of her and loving her every single day since you came into her life."

His heart is breaking. Why did this have to happen? Why is all of this so hard? He is so sorry for dragging everyone into this situation, and he wishes so much that there was an easy way out for all of them.

"But she's still young enough that if I leave now, it's not going to traumatize her," he reasons shakily. "She'll be okay."

"But is that something you can live with?"

He doesn't know how he is going to live with himself regardless of what happens. There will be constant crushing guilt no matter what, and he hates that she is trying to use that against him.

"The guilt thing doesn't work on me," he lies while staring at Aurora who is kicking her little feet and has no idea what is going on. "Please don't try to guilt me into this because staying is only going to hurt her. You may not see it now, but—"

"Stop. I'm not trying to guilt you into anything. It's just that you're saying all of these things and making this decision because you regret what happened with Addison."

"I don't want to talk about her. That's—"

"No, _listen_ to me," she says more gently, placing a hand on his knee and squeezing. "You're hurt, and you're not thinking."

He looks over at her in the dim light of the room, and when he speaks, he barely recognizes his own voice. "Don't you realize how hard this is for me? Do you think I want to leave her? Do you think I want her to grow up practically orphaned?"

"Of course not, and that's why I'm not letting you."

"Please, Naomi. Just take care of her for me. She needs a mom, and you're so good with her."

"No. Stop talking. You're staying, Mark, because if you don't—if you leave—you will always regret it on some level, but if you stay, you won't _ever_ regret that. I _know_ you can be a good father to her, and I'm not letting you give up on yourself this soon. We are here for you. You aren't doing this alone, and I know you always feel like you're imposing, but I don't think you realize how much we care about you guys."

He can't look at her.

"I will take her for a week," she continues, "but during that week, I want you to do some serious thinking. Get out of the house for a few days. Go see Violet. Talk to someone who doesn't know you as well as Sam and I do because you aren't in the right state to be thinking this over all by yourself."

He scoffs, "What else is there to think about? I don't need a shrink to tell me that Addison is dead and that I am a fucking awful person."

"Stop arguing, and just humor me, okay? Do it for your daughter. Please. Just take a week."

A week isn't going to change anything, but he agrees because getting Naomi to take Aurora is the first step. He needs to let her go. She deserves better than him.

But he feels so guilty that he can't even kiss his little girl goodbye.

xx

* * *

**A/N: **Okay. Four months between chapters. I suck, I know, but I didn't want to force anything, so it's taken a while. This was part one of this chapter, and part two should follow within the week (once I'm happy-ish with it). Anyway. I will finish this story. I swear, and I'm cool with just finishing this story for myself just to actually _finish_ it, but I'm hoping someone still remembers/cares what happens. haha. :) Let me know what you think.


	9. Chapter 8b

xx

With Aurora gone, he gives in to six weeks of stress and sleeplessness and crashes until just after three in the afternoon, waking up disoriented, feeling sore all over, and initially not having any idea where he is or how he got there. Rolling over, though, he remembers. He is at Addison's house and in Addison's guestroom because Addison is dead, and nearby there is an empty bassinet, an empty baby swing, a couple abandoned pacifiers and bottles, and a clean onesie because his daughter is gone. He gave her up—is going to give her up—and he _hates_ himself. Of all the terrible things he has done in his life, this might be the worst, even though he feels it is completely necessary.

As the day drags on, he doesn't move. He stays lying on his side, blankly staring at nothing until long after the sun has gone down. It's a day wasted, but he can't bring himself to care. The house is still a mess, and he doesn't care. His phone rings repeatedly, and he doesn't care. His stomach is practically eating itself, and he still doesn't care.

_She's dead. My sister is dead, and he never even apologized for what he did to her._

He is so sorry. He knows it's a cliché, but he truly would give or do anything to bring her back.

xx

"You still alive?" Sam's voice comes from the doorway the next afternoon.

"Yeah," he grunts into his pillow with his back towards the door and a sheet pulled over his head. Other than getting up once to use the bathroom, he has barely moved since Naomi left with Aurora.

"Naomi tried calling your phone half a million times between yesterday and today, and because you didn't answer, she insisted that I come over to make sure you didn't do anything stupid."

"I'm still here."

"Well, just so you know, the baby is doing fine, and there's food downstairs on the kitchen counter," Sam informs him. "Are you going to get up any time soon or should I put it in the refrigerator?"

He wishes that they would stop worrying about him and let him be on his own for a while—or, better yet, raise his daughter better than he ever could. So rather than answering yes or no, he responds, "I need you to talk Naomi into taking Aurora full time."

"I asked you about food, and no, I'm not doing that because you are perfectly capable of taking care of her yourself."

He laughs bitterly because not only does he consider himself an unfit parent, he also has turned Addison's house into a disaster area. "Really? Have you met me before? Did you not know me in medical school? And have you seen the house? If Addison saw it now, she would die if she weren't already dead."

"She would probably let it slide if she could see that you've been taking good care of her daughter," Sam assures him before offering up an unexpected piece of information that both shocks and infuriates him: "Look, Mark, I can't talk to Naomi about taking Aurora because legally, if you give her up, she goes to Archer before she goes to us."

It takes a few seconds to sink in, for him to really process that he actually heard what he just heard, and then he throws the sheet over his head, bolts upright, and turns to look at Sam.

"What?" He asks incredulously, feeling slightly dizzy due to the sudden change in position and because he thought of _Archer_ raising his daughter absolutely incenses him.

Sam, though, remains calm: "The will Addison made up while she was pregnant lists Archer as first in line after you, and then if he doesn't think he can do it or if something happens to him, she goes to us."

He can't believe it. It's the first that he has ever heard about this. He knew that Archer was given control of nearly all of Addison's financial assets and property, and he knew that Aurora would have partial access to Addison's trust fund when she turned 18 and full access when she turned 25, but because of his optimism and ignorance six weeks ago, he never considered to ask what specific plan Addison had set up if he, himself, didn't want custody.

"No fucking way. There has to be a way around that. Archer is about as ready to be a parent as I am. Can't we get a lawyer?"

"He's her uncle," Sam shrugs.

"And I'm her father," he immediately argues back.

"Which is why you should get your shit together and raise her yourself."

He walked right into that one, and this time, he has no response because it's obvious that Sam cannot possibly understand what he is going through right now. There is no point in arguing, and he is suddenly (and embarrassingly) feeling near tears, so all he can manage is to shake his head and respond with a simple, "I tried."

But of course, it's not a sufficient answer, and for a few moments, the room is silent.

"Violet had a cancelation tomorrow morning at 11," Sam finally speaks. "She said she would be happy to see you during that hour, so Naomi had her schedule you."

He hates that everyone keeps insisting that he needs a therapist. It's just an all-around shitty situation that therapy can't fix, and he wishes they could see that.

xx

He purposely misses his appointment—they can't tell him what to do. They don't know how difficult this is. They don't know what it's like to be him right now. It's day three of not moving, and while he knows that this is probably getting a little ridiculous, it doesn't matter. He'll get out of bed when he feels like it, and right now, he just doesn't.

He feels especially stuck now because there is just no way he can hand over his daughter to Archer. Archer has never had a child, lives a lifestyle unsuitable for a child, drinks way too much, and would set a terrible example. Sam and Naomi, on the other hand, are already wonderful parents to Maya and would do the same for Aurora—teach her right from wrong, probably even send her to Catholic school. They would love her, explain to her that her parents also loved her, and she would grow up to be a good girl. Giving her up so that she could live that kind of life made sense, but giving her to Archer seems even more disastrous than raising her himself. He's almost angry with Addison. Why did she put this on him? What was she thinking? Did she really think that her jackass of a brother would make a good parent?

Hours pass, and the day goes by just like the last few, thinking and falling in and out of sleep until he hears the backdoor downstairs suddenly open and slam shut.

God, he wishes that Addison hadn't given everyone their own damn key to the house.

He figures that it's Naomi, coming to yell at him for missing his appointment with Violet, but once the footsteps get closer, it's clear that the person is male. And it doesn't sound like Sam, so now he is just waiting for another confrontation with Archer and half hoping that he tries to kill him this time so that Naomi and Sam can take Aurora.

But when the door opens, he is completely surprised by whose voice he hears and whose face he sees.

"Get up."

It's Derek. He can't _believe_ Naomi and Sam would call _Derek_.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He asks, propping himself up on his elbows and squinting when his former best friend stalks across the room and forcefully opens the blinds.

"It's two in the afternoon. Get your ass out bed and do something," Derek demands unsympathetically. He reaches to pull the blankets back on the bed, but Mark stops him and holds on tightly.

"Do what? What am I supposed to do?"

It pisses him off that Derek thinks he can just walk in here and tell him to get out of bed like it's just some easy thing.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself."

And now he's _really_ angry—this is about so much more than feeling sorry for himself, and, seriously, who is _Derek_ to tell someone to stop with the self-pity?

"Fuck you, man. You _love_ to feel sorry for yourself. You went off to Seattle to whine and cry like a little bitch for weeks without so much as a word to anyone after—"

"You have a daughter to think about."

"And I'm thinking about her right now, Derek," he shouts angrily because no one seems understand that he _is_ thinking about her. "I've been thinking about her all day, every day since Addie died, and it's too much. I can't do this. I can't. I was wrong, so just please get the hell out and leave me alone so I can figure out what I'm going to do."

He seems to have made his point because there is a long pause in which Derek stops fighting and begins to study him.

"You know, I've never seen you this upset about something before," he observes calmly.

_Upset_? Of _course_ he's upset.

"Derek, get the fuck out. I'm serious."

"Fine. I'll go," he concedes, walking back towards the door, but when he is just about into the hallway, he turns around to add one more thing: "She's beautiful, by the way."

He's smiling when he says it, and for Mark, it cuts deep.

He feels so undeserving of such a perfect little girl.

xx

After nearly three days of ignoring hunger pains, he has to eat something. Unfortunately, he didn't have the foresight to not turn the kitchen light on, so minutes after he does, Naomi notices it from her own kitchen and takes it as an evening invitation to come on over.

"You called Derek?" He asks through a bite of his turkey sandwich as soon as she closes the door behind her.

"You wouldn't get out of bed, and there was really no one else to call," she reasons evenly, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table to sit across from him. "Anyway, I'm here because I took Aurora in to see Cooper because she's barely slept at all since she came to stay with us."

He sets his sandwich down. "Is she okay?"

"Double ear infection," Naomi answers sympathetically. "Poor little thing is miserable. Cooper says it was most likely caused by—"

He knows. He should have considered it earlier. Other than plastics, otolaryngology is his thing, and he should have been able to diagnose a simple ear infection.

"Caused by her reflux. I did a fellowship in ENT, remember? I should have known. God, she's probably had it for days," he thinks aloud, shaking his head in disappointment in himself for not being able to recognize his daughter's pain. He then recalls his days as an ENT fellow, remembering a child who once had such a severe untreated ear infection that she had permanent partial hearing loss. "Does she have a fever?"

"Very low-grade, but she's got some eardrops to relieve pain and antibiotics for the infection, so she's going to be a much happier little girl," she says with a reassuring smile.

"Well then you can add this to the list of reasons why you would do better taking care of her than I would."

She looks at him pointedly. "Hey, I wouldn't have realized it if Maya hadn't been the queen of ear infections growing up. I swear, it got to the point where her pediatrician didn't even need to ask us what her problem was when we came in."

"Again, though—I'm an ENT. I should have suspected this."

"Mark, it's an ear infection. Come on. It's not like she's dying. She's going to be fine—definitely not a big fan of the taste of the antibiotic, but she'll be fine— and once it clears up, Cooper said we should fill that low-dose Zantac prescription for her reflux."

"Okay," he murmurs.

He knows that he isn't responsible for causing Aurora's pain, but she's just a little baby who shouldn't know any sort of hurt, and suddenly, he is overcome by a deep, primal need to comfort and protect her.

Naomi seems to sense this.

"She's finally getting some sleep now, but I'm sure she would appreciate a visit from her daddy."

He really shouldn't. If he is going to let go, he needs to really let go and not torture himself, but thoughts of her tiny feverish body and sad little face have too much of a pull on him.

_Just this once_, he reasons with himself.

"I'd like that."

xx

After a fast (and much-needed) shower, he heads next door where Naomi lets him in through a side door so that he doesn't have to face anyone. He doesn't want to make a big deal out of being here; he just wants to spend a little time with his sick daughter, make sure she is okay, and then leave without having to talk bullshit or answer questions.

She leads him past the living room where Sam, Maya, and Derek are watching a Lakers game and up the stairs to her and Sam's room where Aurora is just beginning to stir in her port-a-crib next to the bed.

"You can stay in here with her, or you can take her down the hall to the second guest room," she whispers. "Halftime just ended, so you've got some time before they all start moving around downstairs, but I'll bring up a bottle so you don't have to worry about running into anyone."

He nods appreciatively and sits down on the corner of the mattress. "Thanks."

Naomi smiles warmly and exits, leaving him alone with the baby whose little eyelids are just fluttering open. She looks so calm and almost ethereal in the moonlight, and he almost doesn't want to touch her delicate pale skin. He watches as she brings a fist to her face to rub her eyes, and when she yawns, both fists reach up towards her sore ears. A weak little whimper emanates then from her throat, and that sound alone allows him to push aside everything that has happened over the last few days and just focus on her.

"Hey, buddy," he greets quietly, carefully reaching into the port-a-crib and catching her attention. She turns her head towards his hand in response, causing the backs of his knuckles to brush over her flushed cheek, and when he offers her his finger to grasp, she gladly accepts. He doubts she even knows it's him, but he hopes he is already providing at least some comfort. "I heard you weren't feeling so good, huh?"

It breaks his heart to see her in this state—so much so that he can't help but slip an arm under her body and carefully lift her to his chest. She tenses at first, and he is afraid she is going to start screeching, but after a little bit of squirming, she seems to find a comfortable position and sighs.

"I know, it sucks to be you right now. I'm sorry," he whispers softly, kissing the top of her head which is noticeably warmer than usual. "You'll feel better soon, though. No more fever, no more ear stuff, no more throwing up your food—you'll be as good as new, okay?"

She grips his t-shirt and snuggles into him as much as she can, and he suddenly can't help but imagine how Addison would be taking care of her in this situation. He can picture the two of them together, cuddled on Addison's bed with Addison whispering comforting things to their little girl, soothingly rubbing her back, lovingly kissing her little fists, and knowing exactly what to do for her. She was a natural when it came to taking care of sick babies, and with Aurora, he knows she would have been perfect through every ear infection, cold, flu, or skinned knee.

And then there's Archer. If he can't be Aurora's father, then that means Archer will be the one who helps her through those things, and while it's easy to picture Addison being nurturing and consoling, it's almost impossible to imagine Archer that way. He figures that Archer would probably figure it out—after all, he has been learning himself—but he doesn't want that for Aurora. If it can't be Addison, and if it can't be Naomi, Mark would rather it be him taking care of his little girl when she is sick or hurting or even perfectly fine.

He runs his hand down her back, feeling the ridges of her tiny spine through her soft cotton pajamas and causing her to emit a short little pout that reminds him of how Addison used to whine when she had a cold or headache. "I know, baby," he murmurs, inhaling the leftover scent of baby shampoo in her hair. "I'm sorry that I can't make it better."

He might not be the best guy, he thinks to himself, but it says something about him that he wants to be here for her, right? He isn't completely heartless. He isn't all bad.

"How's she doing?" Naomi asks as she returns to her bedroom with a warm bottle for Aurora.

"Honestly, she's kind of killing me here," he laughs sadly. "You were right—she's definitely miserable."

"Well I'm glad you came over," she says, sitting down beside them. "And I'm sure she is, too."

"Yeah," he agrees. Because it really _is_ nice to see her. It's also nice to feel wanted and to make her feel better, and he is slowly coming to the conclusion that he isn't going to let Archer take this away from him.

They lapse into silence with Naomi rolling the bottle between her palms and him, once again, trying to figure out just how he is going to do all of this—because now that it's either him or Archer, he knows it has to be him. It's just that he feels so far away from being capable. There is so much that needs to be fixed, so much that needs to be learned, and so much guilt that needs to be worked through.

He swallows and clears his throat, "I, uh, can I get an extension?"

"A what?" She asks, turning to him.

"More time. I think I'm going to need another week before I'm ready to take her home again," he clarifies. "I just… I've got some shit I need to deal with, and I could use some more time, if that's okay?"

"Okay," she answers simply.

He hates to impose, but if this is going to work, he needs more than just a few more days to prepare. When he takes her home, he needs to be ready.

Now he just has to figure out how he is going to get to that point.

xx

* * *

**A/N:** Eh. This is kind of a weak chapter, but if I'm going to finish this, I needed to post _something_. Buuut... see? I got this second part out within the week. Thanks for reading :) Let me know what you think!


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